


The Lighthouse

by TemporalRiot



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Post-Game, Pre-Slash, Violence, Witchcraft, good ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:19:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TemporalRiot/pseuds/TemporalRiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is on the third day of the month of rain, during the second year of Empress Emily's reign that the Outsider vanishes. Few notice at first, except Corvo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wake in the dark

It is on the third day of the month of rain, during the second year of Empress Emily's reign that the Outsider vanishes. Few notice at first, except Corvo.

Corvo notices the absence of the Outsider's influence before he even opens his eyes at dawn. There is an emptiness beside him, within him, that he has not felt for years now. An emptiness he didn't even know had needed to be filled until it was missing, and he finds himself surprisingly sorrowful at it's loss.

The world is a shade darker, slower and the almost comforting warmth of his branded left hand has faded to nothing. Corvo runs his fingers over the back of his hand, expects the shiver up his spine, the presence at his shoulder, but feels nothing at all.

He drags himself from the edge of his bed to the locked chest on the other side of his room in a panic, hooking two thin pieces of metal from his coat pocket on the way. The contents of the chest are for nobody's eyes but his, he wouldn't wish the contents on anyone, and so the key to the chest had found it's way to the bottom of the riverbed the year before. With a shaking hand he quickly picks the lock and immediately begins rummaging through the contents of the chest. Old clothes and older books pool on the floor around him. The junk is all a ruse of course, to hide the small, unassuming box at the bottom of the chest. Of course, one could argue that such things weren't needed when Corvo had the only way into the chest, but if there was one thing he had learned it was that one could never be too careful. Corvo gently lifted the old wooden box from the chest and placed it on the floor beside him. Opening it he found what he had expected. The human heart within did not beat though. It was nothing more than a dried husk. A piece of macabre meat stitched together, the little glass pane showing nothing but the tarnished, defunct machinery it now housed. Hard to imagine it had once shuddered as though alive, as though it were desperate to escape his grip.

Looking to his left hand, Corvo flexed his fingers and willed himself to Blink. As he was dreading though nothing was forthcoming. Had he been abandoned? He had always been aware of the Outsider's fickle ways, his attention could be caught and lost in a heartbeat. Corvo had had the misfortune of seeing those the Outsider had lost interest in, ancient crones and wizened old men, blind and mad for the attention of a god who picked individuals with all the glee of a child tearing the wings off a butterfly. _That's not me_ ; Corvo thought. _It can't be_.

If he were honest Corvo felt slightly foolish in his regard for the Outsider. A friend he was not, and colleague was not the right word either. But the god was something to him, certainly. Corvo was a man with many acquaintances but few friends. Corvo's initial fear of the Outsider had turned to a grudging respect, and from there it had grown. The god could be so friendly at times, it was something Corvo had never anticipated. And he had certainly never expected to start to enjoy his company in return. This...companionship they had felt bizarre and wrong, but it was his. There was very little Corvo had for himself, having given his entire self over to first Jessamine, and then her daughter. So they met in the dark and in desolate places, which suited Corvo just fine.

He wouldn't have it any other way, of course. They had spent countless hours together, in the dark, during Corvo's sleepless nights that were often, and at the shrines scattered around Dunwall that he continued to find. It seemed that after seeing the ugly side of humanity during the plague more were turning to the arcane. People found it easier to worship than hide their heresy though unfortunately, and the Abbey were nothing if not incredibly paranoid. They patrolled every street corner, everyone was a potential heretic in their eyes. Every week they sent an envoy, or occasionally an Overseer accompanied by the city guard to beg additional soldiers to fill their ranks or to request money to help in their battle against the darkness. The city was on the edge of chaos they claimed. The Outsider was at the door, and the people's hearts were so dark. Dunwall would need but the smallest nudge to fall to him. It wasn't the first time Corvo was thankful for his station as lord protector rather than being part of the city guard. His facade was perfect but being in the vicinity of those cursed music boxes left him with a migraine, and seeing the number of Overseers roaming the streets with them now, he wouldn't be surprised if they were being mass produced.

 

                                                                                                          *

 

Only a month before Corvo had sat before the fireplace in his room. At 3 o'clock in the morning he had decided sleep would not be forthcoming. He had run fingers of the brand on his hand and thought of how he would welcome companionship in that moment. A bend of light and space and the Outsider was sat by the fireside, that damn smirk painting his pale features.

“You could have just asked”, was all he said.

Corvo wasn't sure whether to be flattered or disturbed that he appeared to have a god at his beck and call in that moment. Still, he knew not to question him. He clearly still had the Outsider's favour and as loath as he was to admit it to himself sometimes he was thankful for that. He had always considered himself a solitary man, even while Jessamine had been alive, but this...this was something entirely different. Regardless of whether the Outsider had need of him, or if he was simply an amusement to him Corvo was intrigued. After all, only 8 individuals in the entire world had been bestowed the same gifts as he, and he was only human after all.

Despite being sure that the Outsider already knew of the Overseer's visits to the Empress, Corvo told him anyway. The Outsider had laughed heartily at the Abbey's proclamations of the doom of Dunwall.

“For a group dedicated to hating me they don't know much about me, do they?”, the Outsider had chuckled. “I am older than time itself, if I had want of this city don't you think it would already be mine? I am everywhere, I am _everything_. If it's easier for the Abbey of the Everyman to grasp, I am _this city_. I was here before their crimes at the White Cliff and I will still be here when them and their beliefs are dust.”

The words sunk into Corvo's tired mind, he forced himself to think past the vision before him, created for want of a better avatar. This was no young man, but a force of nature. A being of death and birth, light and darkness. In that moment Corvo was sure that were the Abbey to find a way to obliterate the Outsider the world would fall. There was no witchcraft here, just nature itself. Perhaps Corvo was more a heretic than he had previously thought.

“Still, this isn't something you should worry about right now”, the Outsider's words shook Corvo from his thoughts. The Outsider watched Corvo intently, his eyes were emotionless pools that warranted no reflection.

“I'll be sure to mention that to the Overseers if they ever start asking questions about my hand”, Corvo replied lightly. He lifted the offending hand briefly and the Outsider laughed.

“Come, Corvo”, the Outsider rose from his chair with all the grace of a feline, and took Corvo's branded hand in his own. His fingers were cool and soft in Corvo's warm, rough grip. The Outsider tugged gently, implying Corvo should follow. The god led the lord protector the short distance to his bed.

“You should try and get some sleep at least. You'll be needing your strength very shortly.”

“And what are you implying exactly?” Corvo asked with a grin, knowing full well he would not get any helpful response. He turned to challenge the Outsider and found his room as empty as it had been at 3 o'clock.

 

                                                                                                          *

 

Corvo was pulled from his thoughts by a knock at his door. “Lord protector?” a maid called through the door.

“The Empress requests your presence at breakfast”.

“Of course she does”, he murmured to himself. “Tell the Empress I'll be down shortly”, he called back.

“Very good, Lord protector”. Through the thick wood of the door Corvo heard the maid depart.

Corvo placed the heart gently back in the wooden chest, piling everything else back on top of it, careful to keep it well hidden. Once he'd replaced the lock he dressed for the day. He dressed in dark colours, like every day, the perfect shadow at the Empress' side. As he left his room, sword in hand, he fingered the whalebone charm that had been in his coat pocket since he'd found it. Corvo's failure to remove it to a safer place had led to it remaining on him at all times as a sort of good luck charm. Now was as good a time as any to see whether his luck had run out or not. “Where did you go?” he asked quietly. His answer was simply silence, just as he had expected.

And so for the first time in two years Corvo faced the day without a god on his shoulder.


	2. Organ grinder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: Exposition! Lots of exposition. Psuedo-scientific waffle. Corvo's excellent skills of deduction.

 

 

Corvo found the Empress out in the courtyard. A table had been moved outside so she could take her breakfast in the sun and Callista had accompanied her. Four of her most loyal guardsman were stationed round her. After her mother's demise they were not taking any chances, and if the guards and Emily's attendants and tutors had their own way, the poor girl would never see the light of day. Corvo however knew how futile this was. There was no keeping a wilful young girl of Emily's age cooped up indoors, and if Emily wanted to go outside then she would go outside. What the Empress wanted the Empress got. And apparently that included cakes for breakfast. The dismay was evident on Callista's face, and Corvo had to smile at that.

 

“Emily, won't you have some fruit for your breakfast? If you have cake for breakfast you'll ruin your appetite for lunch”, Callista pleaded.

 

“I don't want fruit”, Emily complained. “Fruit is stupid. I want cake, and I can have cake if I want. I'm the Empress.” Callista sighed but brightened when she saw Corvo.

 

“Corvo, good morning! Won't you talk some sense into the girl? This behaviour is unladylike. She needs to learn.”

 

Corvo shrugged as he took a seat opposite Emily's tutor. He knew Callista meant well and genuinely cared for Emily's wellbeing, and he also knew how Emily felt about that. The words “boring”, “dull” and “killjoy” and been flung around in the past. There was no arguing with Emily once she had her mind sent, and with the horrendous things she had been put through in the past few years surely she was allowed her frivolities?

 

“I think we can overlook cake for today, don't you? I'd say in the scheme of things there are more important things to worry about.”

 

Callista nodded but wilted visibly. Emily's eyes shifted between the two adults nervously. While polishing off a cream bun she handed Corvo a role of parchment that had been lying on the table.

 

“We got a letter today. From Piero and Mr. Sokolov,” she explained through a mouthful of cake. “Sorry,” she said apologetically when she caught Callista's eye.

 

Corvo read through the letter handed to him as Emily and Callista conversed. The letter was short and to the point, written in the Royal Physician's small, neat script. 'If the Empress permits, we request the presence of the lord protector, Corvo Attano, at the earliest possible convenience. A situation has arisen, concerning our mutual friend'. The letter was signed by both physicians, Piero's signature a hurried chicken scrawl at the bottom of the page. The letter was dated that very morning, suggesting to Corvo that sending a messenger had been their first plan of action that day. Corvo was anxious at the mention of their 'mutual friend'. There was no evidence of whom they spoke of but he was confident that they meant the Outsider. Truth be told the Outsider had not left his thoughts and Corvo was eager to find out what Piero and Sokolov knew. Did they know of his whereabouts? Had he made contact with them? Perhaps he was with them in that very moment.

 

“It sounds important doesn't it?”, Emily asked him once he rolled the parchment up and placed it down on the table.

 

“It's strange they should send a letter and not just come themselves, that's what they normally do.” Corvo nodded, it was strange. “Would it please you if I left now, Empress?” Corvo asked of Emily as he rose from his chair.

 

Emily nodded, swinging her legs back and forth on her chair that was still that bit too high for her. “The sooner it gets sorted the better. When you get back though you have to tell me what happened, it sounds secretive!” Corvo smiled at that and nodded. As he turned to leave Emily spoke up again. “Who is the friend they mentioned? Is it someone we know? Was it another Loyalist?”

 

_Not exactly._ “Someone I met a few years ago. He assisted me when I needed it.” For obvious reasons they avoided the subject of Emily's abduction, and Jessamine's death was still felt by many, especially Emily. Corvo kept his eye on the ground, not wanting to make eye contact with Callista who he knew was frowning at him. No doubt trying to figure out who he was talking about and failing to come up with an answer. He spoke no word of a lie though. The Outsider had helped him in countless ways, countless times when Corvo had needed it more than anything.

 

“I hope your friend is ok”, Emily finally said.

 

_So do I_. Corvo's reply was a short bow to the Empress and a nod to Callista as he excused himself.

 

 

                                                                                                           *

 

 

Despite the early hour the day was already warm, and Corvo was well aware of how hot it would be by midday. The stench of the city, the relentless smell of the slaughter houses, as well the the stink of sickness and human filth was only made worse as the day went on. As Corvo made his way through the city, wearing the mask he put on every day, that of the lord protector, he was faced with other masks; those of the Overseers. Even more than usual patrolled the streets. Civilians kept their eyes on the pavement, trying their hardest to keep out the Overseer's way. On his way to the Academy of Natural Philosophy Corvo witnessed a group of Overseers manhandling a dishevelled man from an alleyway to a van no doubt bound for Coldridge prison. The man himself looked emaciated and half insane as he was escorted by two Overseers.

 

Corvo stood back, unable to do anything and not wishing to attract attention as the man was bundled into the back of the vehicle. The Overseers passed the man on to the two guards who waited at the vehicle.

 

“Fools!” Corvo heard the man scream at the guards who were cuffing his hands behind his back. “What fools you are. The Abbey will reap what they have sown, do you think you can kill a god-” the old man was cut off with a cuff to the side of the face. The guards laughed as they slammed the door to the van behind him and climbed into the front of the vehicle.

 

_A worshipper of the Outsider_ , Corvo thought as the vehicle chugged and wheezed it's way down the road. An unexpected thread of fear made it's way up his spine and he reached inside his coat pocket to feel the comforting smoothness of the bone charm. It was cold. _You can't kill a god_ , the heretic had said. How true was that?

 

 

                                                                                                          *

 

 

Corvo arrived at the academy of natural philosophy at midday, an oppressive feeling weighing on his shoulders, not helped by the muggy weather. He made his way to the shining glass front of the academy and informed the guard on the door that he had been sent for by Anton Sokolov. The guard inspected the signatures of Sokolov and Piero on the parchment Corvo presented to him with a frown. After a moment he nodded and opened the large doors for Corvo.

 

“They're on the top floor,” the guard rumbled. “Take the lift at the back. Don't touch _anything_ ”. With that the door was slammed and Corvo was left in the cool, dark interior of the Academy of Natural Philosophy. Despite never having visited the academy before Corvo found his way quickly to the large lift at the back of the foyer, eager to find out if what Sokolov and Piero had discovered had anything to do with the Outsider's whereabouts. _He isn't dead_ , Corvo thought stubbornly.

 

The lift was slow and grinding as it made it's way slowly up to the 7th floor, the very top of the academy. When Corvo stepped out of the lift he was instantly reminded of the the place where he had once again encountered Sokolov after his incarceration in Coldridge. The 7th floor was a ornate greenhouse that spanned the entirety of the roof. Instead of plants as would have been expected, machines of all types littered the ground. Some were in the process of being built, and groups of natural philosophers gathered round the machinery and spoke animatedly. In the middle of the organised chaos was Piero and Anton Sokolov.

 

“Corvo!” Piero exclaimed when he noticed Corvo across the room. “Thanks so much for coming, and so quickly too.” He hadn't changed in the last 6 months, except Corvo noticed, he looked a little more healthy. During their time with the Loyalists Piero had been constantly on the verge of collapse due to sleep deprivation. He had an inkling that could have been attributed to the Outsider.

 

Anton Sokolov for his part didn't appear to notice Corvo's arrival. He stood over a mechanical device sat on a table in the middle of the lab, his brow furrowed in concentration. As Corvo moved closer he realised the device in question looked quite a lot like the music boxes the Overseers employed, though it lacked a hand crank.

 

Corvo nodded his greeting to Piero and stood by at the edge of the table, watching Sokolov tinker. “Are you working for the Overseers now?” he asked. “This isn't a music box, Mr. Attano, despite bearing more than a passing resemblance to those accursed machines,” Sokolov informed him as he worked.

 

A few moments later Sokolov straightened up and addressed the entire room. “Everyone! We will be needing this room now so if you would kindly vacate the area it would be much appreciated.” With that the room quickly emptied, natural philosophers gossiped amongst themselves and shot suspicious looks at Corvo as they filed out.

 

“The perks of being the head of the academy,” Sokolov stated as Corvo watched them leave. “Has this got anything to do with why you've asked me here?”, Corvo asked, gesturing to the music box on the table.

 

“After a fashion,” Sokolov replied. “Tell me Mr. Attano, have you had any contact with our black eyed friend recently? I'm aware that he enjoys your company.” So, as Corvo had feared, this was about the Outsider after all. There was a small amount of spite in Sokolov's tone, even after all this time. Corvo chose to ignore it.

 

“Not since last month. Why?” he offered. Sokolov and Piero shared a look. Piero took a breath and slid his glasses back up his nose. “The machine you see here Corvo is of a design that was given to me in a dream.”

 

“You dreamed of it? What, did the Outsider give you the idea?” Corvo lowered his voice. Even here, among allies he was hesitant to speak the Outsder's name out loud.

 

Piero nodded. “I first dreamed of it four months ago. As the days went on the design for the machine became more and more clear to me. With Sokolov's assistance I was able to complete building the machine just over a month later.”

 

Corvo nodded to himself, he wasn't surprised to hear the Outsider still bestowed ideas to Piero. He wondered how many ideas he had been given, and just how many of them Sokolov was aware of.

 

“So what does it do? I can't imagine it's just a music box.” Corvo wondered out loud.

 

“And you'd be right about that. We ourselves didn't truly understand it's purpose until last night.”

 

Last night? That was too coincidental, what with Corvo only noticing the Outsider's absence that morning, he guessed Piero's machine would have something to do with his disappearance.

 

Sokolov stroked his beard thoughtfully as he eyed the machine. “Once the machine was complete it began emitting a sound. Like a quiet, persistent humming. With the exception of the minor change in pitch, which we recorded of course, it never changed, and it never ceased. Until last night. Shortly after midnight the humming rose to what I can only describe as a loud, piercing screech for about 5 seconds, until it was abruptly cut off. And that's it. It hasn't made a noise since.”

 

“So what does that mean exactly?”

 

“Do you know how Holger's device works exactly?” Sokolov asked, referring to the Overseer's music box. Corvo shook his head, because despite reading notes and having a very vague idea of what the machines did he knew little else.

 

“The device was created on the basis that there are waves being transmitted, waves that we aren't even aware of. The device uses mathematically perfect music to block these waves. This machine you see before you though..rather than blocking these waves it simply 'records' them. As of last night I suppose you could say that these waves are no longer being transmitted. They no longer exist. Hence the reason the machine has ceased to function.”

 

“It was hypothesised that the waves that the Holger's device blocked originated in the void” Piero said. “I'd say that this machine lends credence to this theory, wouldn't you?”

 

So Piero's machine had worked as a kind of alarm, Corvo realised. Once the Outsider vanished the machine has simply stopped working. It no longer 'sensed' him. It longer sensed the void.

 

“I knew the moment I awoke today that the Outsider's influence had gone.” Corvo revealed. Sokolov shot a look at Piero and Corvo knew he was confirming their fears. “I can't describe how I knew, I just did. Any of the, uh...skills I had been gifted with previously I can no longer use. Look.” Corvo removed the bone charm from his coat pocket. He placed it in Piero's outstretched hand.

 

“I used to carry that. For luck.” Corvo explained to them. “It used to be warm to the touch. That's how I knew it was working.”

 

“It's cold,” Piero observed as he inspected the charm, turning it this way and that. He passed it over to Sokolov who did the same.

 

“That's how I know the Outsider is gone. I don't know whats happened to him though. I wish I could be of more help”.

 

As Corvo pocketed the bone charm once again he was reminded of something the Outsider had said to him in the previous month. _You'll be needing your strength very shortly._ He never had got an explanation out of the Outsider, had all but forgotten the cryptic message until now.

 

He had had it all planned out. He knew.

 

“He knew.”

 

“What was that, Corvo?” Piero asked.

 

“The last time he visited me the Outsider told me I should gather my strength, but he never explained what for. And he's given you the idea for a machine that would essentially tell you the moment he disappeared. He knew this was all going to happen.”

 

 


	3. The Mariner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corvo pays a visit to an old friend. The situation goes from bad to worse.

 

 

Corvo's visit to the Academy of Natural Philosophy was both surprising and unsettling. He was still entirely unsure of what to do with the information he had been given, but the general consensus seemed to be that the Outsider had left the idea of the machine with Piero as some kind of warning of what was to come. At a loss of what else to do Corvo left the academy with the promise that if he were to hear anything or find anything out which could help the scientists or their situation he would let them know. Corvo didn't hold out much hope for that, after all how did one search for a missing God? For their part, Piero and Sokolov would keep an almost constant eye on the Joplin-Sokolov Machine (Initially to be named solely after Piero, but after Sokolov's input that he himself had supplied the materials needed to bring the machine to life, the name had been changed), and would report to the Lord Protector the moment anything changed.

 

On his way back to the tower Corvo wondered about the implications of a world without a god. On a small scale he himself was affected, but on a larger scale? If the Abbey had nothing to fight what would happen? A world without darkness, for surely the Abbey saw the Outsider as the creator of all that was dark and heretic, couldn't exist. The Abbey would eventually turn on itself, Corvo surmised. The Abbey would always need something to blame the wrongs of the world on, and it was the light that created shadow in the first place. The thought was a disheartening one.

 

Corvo was glad once he finally reached the tower; the day was stifling, and the stench of the city was getting worse. Any civil unrest which took place over the next few days would only be made worse by it.

 

 

                                                                                                          *

 

 

It was four days before Corvo made his next move. Four days of silence, of worry and coming up against brick walls. Corvo was at a loss of what to do. What was he expected to do? He figured the Outsider must be having a laugh at his expense somewhere. After all Corvo had been through after Jessamine's death, after fighting tooth and nail to make sure it was Emily who sat on the throne, now he was somehow expected to save Dunwall from the downward spiral it had created for itself yet again. _Or_ , a slightly more tender part of him suggested, _you are the only one he trusted enough to do it_?

 

On the evening of the fourth night, after a day of all but dogging Emily's footsteps around the tower, and desperately not thinking about what was happening in the city, Corvo set out for the Houndpits.

 

Corvo kept to the river, not wishing to walk through the city. The tower had received reports from the city guard, they'd all heard of the fires being deliberately set in buildings that the Overseers merely 'suspected' housed practitioners of black magic or worshippers of the Outsider. The morning before Corvo had steadied Emily with a hand between her small shoulders as they had, over breakfast, been informed of a coven operating in the centre of Dunwall that had been led out into the hot city night the evening before and summarily executed for all to see. Callista, worry painting her features had suggested that Emily leave the table, as they were told that the leader of the coven, an old woman, blind and insane had laughed up until the very moment the bullet left the Overseer's chamber. Corvo didn't need three guesses to know who the fabled coven leader was.Emily, a child now wise beyond her years had insisted she stay and listen. These were her people, she argued. It didn't matter who they did or did not worship, they were hers and she was theirs. Corvo's heart swelled briefly at that. Jessamine would have been so proud.

 

For the first time in his life Corvo wished he could speak to Daud. It was absurd, he had no liking for the man, he often wondered if he'd made the right decision sparing his life. Sometimes he regretted doing it. Right now though Corvo felt he needed to speak to someone who had known the Outsider. It would have been a comfort, as off as it was. For all Corvo knew, Daud was already back in Sokonos. And so Corvo made his way to the only other person he could think of who might known the ways of a god.

 

 

                                                                                                          *

 

 

The Hound Pits pub had not changed much since Corvo had last seen it. Samuel's makeshift hut still had its place in the yard behind the House Pits. A small fire was lit outside the hut and Corvo guessed that Samuel was indeed in. Corvo gave a knock on the corrugated roof as he made his way round the front of the hut. Samuel's eyes lit up and a smile crossed his face when he realised Corvo was there.

 

“Mister Corvo! This isn't a visit I was expecting but I sure am happy you're here! How are you? Hows the Empress?”. Samuel stood and shook Corvo's hand before offering him a place before the fire. Corvo smiled to himself. He had missed the good natured sailor.

 

“The Empress is fine, Samuel. How are you keeping?”, Samuel replied with a short shrug. Corvo lifted his eyes to the sky, noticing the storm clouds closing in from the west. “Don't you think you should be heading indoors? Looks like a storm's coming”. Samuel waved a dismissing hand in Corvo's direction. “I've faced worse than a storm, believe me Mr. Corvo.”

 

Corvo knelt by the fire and met Samuel's eyes. “Samuel, this may sound strange, but I'm asking you because I don't know where else to turn. I need to know if you've noticed anything different recently. About the city. Or out at sea?”

 

Samuel sat in silence, gazing into the fire. Corvo was beginning to think he wouldn't receive an answer. “I'm not a superstitious man, Mr. Corvo. Not really anyway, and not to the extent of some men I could name. I know superstitious men, sailors mostly. Men who carry whalebone charms. Like the ones you used to wear.” Samuel stared intently at Corvo's gloved left hand. “I been hearing things these past few days. Things I wouldn't have believed if I hadn't seen it for myself. It's...it's the whales, Mr. Corvo. They're gone.”

 

Corvo's blood ran cold, a shiver running down his spine. “What do you mean, they're gone? Gone where?” he asked.

 

“I wish I knew. I know some whalers, whalers from the Calamity, a whaling trawler that returned to harbour last night. Said about a week ago they stopped finding signs of whales. It's like the ocean is deserted. Like the ocean's floor just opened up and swallowed 'em. There's nothing out there.”

 

“Do the whalers have any idea what happened?” Corvo could hardly entertain the idea. The ocean, the vast unruly ocean that they'd all been taught to fear and respect couldn't be empty. The concept was as unfathomable as the sea itself. Men, greater men than he, had dedicated their lives to trying to understand the Leviathans.

 

“The Siren', Samuel replied at length. “They think it had something to do with the Siren.”

 

That was a name Corvo was more than a little familiar with. “You mean the Outsider?”

 

“Aye. And what with what's going on in Dunwall right now, I'm starting to think they might be right. You didn't see them,” Samuel whispered. “These are hardened folk, men who've spent their lives at sea. And now they come back on their ships clutching their little bone charms, as though it'll protect them from the void. They're scared. They speak to the darkness but the darkness don't speak back anymore.”

 

Corvo nodded to himself. He was more than aware of the silence that greeted him in the darkness. Since he himself had not heard anything about the disappearance of the whales, Corvo thought it was safe to assume that it was not yet common knowledge. The longer the information could be contained within the flooded district the better. Who knew what kind of reaction the knowledge would spark among the populace? No whales meant no whale oil. Mass panic and hysteria was a good guess.

 

“Samuel, this can't go any further than it already has. Tell no one, tell your friends to tell _no one else_. Do you understand?”

 

“Of course, Mr. Corvo. But it can't stay hidden forever. Sooner or later someone will let it slip. Or folks will notice.”

 

Corvo fought to keep the panic from his face as he digested Samuel's words. The first drops of rain landed on Corvo's gloved palm, and he rose to leave.

 

“Be careful, Samuel. I'm at the tower if you need me. Just...be careful, okay?”

 

The old sailor raised a hand in parting. “And yourself, Mr. Corvo.”

 

As Corvo left the Hound Pits he fancied he heard Dunwall finally crumble in the lightning. The Heart's ominous warning bubbled to the surface of his memory. _When the last Leviathan is gone, darkness will fall._

 

 

 

 


	4. One hand to cut the other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corvo gains a shadow and some unexpected guidance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic hasn't been abandoned, life caught up to me I'm afraid.
> 
> Contains minor spoilers for The Brigmore Witches DLC.

Corvo dreams of an empty ocean. No Leviathans, no wildlife. No raven haired youth haunts his steps. No heart in his hands, neither of his beloved Empress. In that way that one doesn't question what happens during dreaming, Corvo casually wonders if he is the sole witness to the end of all things. The ocean, the known world, collapses into the void, the void slowly implodes. Corvo loses gravity, time, and watches existence end. He ponders if this is how the Outsider feels. Torn in all directions, everywhere and nowhere at once. A unique existence. A cruel existence, Corvo thinks. He sees and knows all, and the loneliness is crippling. The void yawns before him and he has to look away. When the void finally, truly touches him his world tilts sideways and he wakes in his bed, tangled in his bed linens.

 

Corvo gasped for breath, the terror of the dream almost enough to overcome him, and he swallowed back a scream that had come unbidden to his throat. He crawled from his bed, leaving the stifling linens behind. On the floor Corvo attempted to catch his breath. He had never been one to be fazed by dreams, until the Outsider paid him a visit of course. But Corvo usually had enough of his wits about him to tell the difference between a simple dream and a visit from the deity. How was he to categorize this one though? It had felt so familiar, like his very first foray into the void. But his visits with the Outsider had never been so tinged with impending doom. Despite this the mark on his hand ached.

As sleep rarely came to him, Corvo was able to survive on a few hours a night. In this case he knew he wouldn't be getting much more sleep that night and quietly made his way into the hall. Rain pelted relentlessly against the windows, but through the rain Corvo made out a whaling vessel returning to harbour, devoid of any whale, as he would have expected. Corvo felt cold with panic at the thought of how the city, the Isles, would suffer if the whales were indeed “gone” as Samuel had suggested. Industry would suffer, the whale oil people took for granted wouldn’t exist. The lower class, as well as the aristocracy would suffer. It didn't bear thinking about. Through the sheets of rain Corvo could make out the dark shape of Kingsparrow Island, lonely and solitary on the sea. The view brought the dream to mind again. He had felt for all the world as though he were witnessing the end of all things. The end that would come to pass should the Outsider remain diminished, the Leviathans but a memory. The Heart's suggestions of the world's doom at the absence of the Leviathans weighed heavily on Corvo's heart. Without the Outsider the world was slipping through Corvo's hands.

Back in his room Corvo donned his coat and boots. Sleep had once again abandoned him and to sit alone in the dark was to greet madness. He slipped the mask Piero made for him so long ago into his pocket, it was a comfort to him and a perhaps misguided charm of protection. He told himself he would not be gone long when his mind slid to Emily. Dear Emily, old beyond her years due to circumstances she had no control over. He hated to leave her side, always. Still, guards were posted at her door at all hours, and Callista was always nearby. Corvo knew that for all of Emily's complaining about her tutor she held her in high regard and no small sense of love. Corvo wouldn't have it any other way. Emily needed love and trustworthy companions now more than ever, and he trusted Callista implicitly.

 

 

                                                                                                          *

 

 

The Lord Protector slid from the tower as silently as a shadow. He walked the streets of Dunwall, even at this late hour the streets teamed with people. Beggers and smugglers, whores and madmen. The City Guard and the Abbey tried and failed to police them all. Emaciated fingers grabbed at Corvo's sleeves as he passed, hands desperate for food, money and affection. He denied them all, his eyes cast downwards, hood pulled down low. Above him Tallboys lit their lamps and Corvo had to wonder just how long the oil would last. The city was sick, he knew this, he just didn't know how to make it better.

Corvo made his way south, to the edge of the river. It was when he was about half way to his destination that he became aware of the fact that he had a follower. The individual trailing him was light on their feet, and fast. Someone obviously trained in the art of keeping silent, like Corvo himself was. They keep their distance, his mystery follower. They used rain and crowds to their advantage. Corvo not once turned round, instead employed empty shop windows and puddles in the crooked streets for their reflections. He never caught a glimpse of his shadow but he was certain they were there. As sure as he was of the cold bone charm in his pocket. As he neared his destination Corvo quickened his pace and became aware that he was no longer being shadowed. He was not foolish enough to believe he had been permanently abandoned though. If there was anything he had learned in the past few years it was not to underestimate those who kept to the shadows.

Corvo's destination was where the sewers connected to the Wrenhaven River, and the abandoned shrine to the Outsider there that he had discovered the previous year. The shrine had looked long forgotten, the purple fabric draped across the inside of the sewer gate was mildewed and decaying, and on some nights when Corvo had not found sleep he would find himself alone at the shrine instead. Almost alone anyway. More often than not Corvo would look up to the mouth of the sewer to find the Outsider casually observing him. There Corvo would usually stay until the sky began to pale. Sometimes they would talk and sometimes they would in oddly companionable silence, but that would be enough. To just be in the presence of another who would not question him would be enough for the troubled man to find peace, albeit briefly.

Tonight though was the first night that Corvo found the shrine occupied. In the dark the man was all but a silhouette, cringing quietly at the foot of the shrine, but the stark white of the Overseer's mask that lay on the ground next to him was enough.

Corvo retrieved the mask from his coat pocket and slowly slid it on. Had it really been over two years, two years since he gave up his own identity to assume that of death? He lifted the latch on the gate that protected the sewer entrance and stepped in out of the rain, letting it bang shut behind him. The Overseer turned sharply at the sound of the gate shutting.

His eyes widened. “Outsider's eyes...it's you”, the Overseer scrambled backwards, back up against the shrine. He cowered as Corvo took a step forward.

He was an ageing man, Corvo saw, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the sewer entrance. The lanterns that littered the shrine had long given up their eerily comforting glow. The Overseer rubbed a hand across his leaking eyes, his greying, lank hair falling into his face.

“You've finally come. I knew it was only a matter of time before death found me. After what I've done”.

“And what is it that you've done?” Corvo asked. Thankfully his voice was heavily muffled by the mask he wore and the fabric lying behind it. He swore he could hear the Overseer's teeth chatter in the quiet.

“I'd have thought that was obvious”, the Overseer whispered. His head knocked backwards against the edge of the shrine lightly. “I'm as guilty as those I condemn. I tried of course, I tried so hard to follow the scriptures, but you can't change what you believe can you? I've been able to hide among the Abbey's ranks for so long, but now they say the Outsider's influence has waned. I've seen what they do to the heretics in the city. I should be there with them, and it's only a matter of time before the Abbey come for me.”

“But you,” the Overseer gazed unafraid into the black emptiness of Corvo's mask. “I'd rather face your blade than the heretic's brand, truth be told.”

“I'm not here for your life” Corvo answered, softly.

The Overseer frowned up at him. “Then why are you here? I remember that mask. If you are the same gentleman who haunted Dunwall scant years ago, they believed you to be death then. What are you now if not an avatar of death?”

What indeed? Corvo wondered. People took omens where they could nowadays, but if the Overseer was looking to add meaning to Corvo's appearance then he was out of luck. “Just a man,” Corvo finally replied.

The Overseer's shoulders slumped, as if in disappointment. “And here I was hoping the Outsider had sent you. Foolish of me.”

Three years ago Corvo would not have considered himself a superstitious man, however coming face to face with a deity had a tendency to change your opinion on things. Despite his misgivings perhaps the Outsider had meant for him to arrive here. Given the creation of Piero's machine Corvo's steps being guided to this very shrine didn't seem all that ridiculous after all.

The wind off the Wrenhaven blew through the sewer gate and disturbed the molding silk of the shrine, the Overseer visibly shivered. Only the bare bones of the shrine remained, the once ambient lamps now decrepit and rusted. Decay ruled now, and Corvo knew he would find no answers here.

The cold weather had Corvo readjusting his hood as he turned to depart from the sewer. “You should leave this place. There's only death and danger here now,” he advised.

The Overseer nodded slowly, retrieving the abandoned mask from where it had been dropped into the puddle beneath the shrine. He pulled himself to his feet, ignoring the damp patches on his knees, he hesitated to put his mask back on. The overseer finally found his voice as Corvo was pulling the gate open.

“Sir, I don't know what line of work you consider yourself to be in...but if you can make Them pay for this, Dunwall would thank you. Their actions will mean the death of everyone.”

After hitting wall after wall in his search for the Outsider something that sounded vaguely like a clue had found it's way to him. Finally.

“Who? Who are they?” Corvo asked, voice rising. He stalked back into the sewer, advancing on the Overseer, eventually cornering him in the darkness. “Tell me. Who are they?”

The Overseer raised his hands defensively at the change in Corvo's tone. “I..I don't know exactly. I've only heard rumours.” He spoke quickly, fearful eyes locked on the mask's empty eyeholes. Corvo shook him, hands curled into the front of the older man's jacket. “What rumours?” he growled.

“J-just rumours. The Abbey is full of them. I've heard some of the higher-ups may know more about the Outsider's dissappearnence than they have said. It probably isn't even true...” the Overseer squirmed in Corvo's grip, but he held him steady. “Outsider's eyes, don't kill me. It's all I know. Please.” he pleaded.

Corvo's investigation, if it could be called that, had taken step after step backwards. No, he wouldn't kill this man, he had knowledge, something that Corvo was lacking. The city was on the verge of destruction and he was desperate.

The Overseer was dropped unceremoniously to the ground. He dragged himself up, leaning heavily against the damp wall for assistance. Corvo took a step back from him, slowly backing towards the gate.

“I know your face now, and I know your allegiance. Speak of this to no one, or I will come for you. I promise you that.”

The Overseer nodded, holding the dirtied mask against his chest, as though it were a talisman against his tormentor. Without sparing the man another thought Corvo departed into the rain. Once he was out of view of the river he pocketed his mask.

 

 

                                                                                                          *

 

 

He was not one to threaten normally, but he didn't consider himself above it if the matter arose. Corvo doubted he'd need to come after the elder Overseer, the man had seemed frightened within an inch of his life, and from where he was standing, Corvo held all the cards. He just couldn't take the risk that the Overseer would tell friends or colleagues that he had met the masked criminal who had terrorised the city a few years previous. The last thing Corvo needed was the Abbey and the City Watch hunting him while he followed lead after useless lead towards the Outsider's whereabouts.

Corvo could almost feel the city's doom rising over him. It was only a matter of time before the public knew of the whales' disappearance. Soon pandemonium would follow. No, he needed to find the Outsider quickly, before anything else happened.

Something told him that the Outsider wasn't dead...if he had ever been alive to begin with. If he were asked exactly how he knew this Corvo would be hard pressed to describe it. Perhaps it could be attributed to how much time he had spent in the Outsider's company? It wasn't the first time Corvo had wondered just how many individuals had received nightly visits from the deity. The number was incredibly low, he was sure, and a part of him felt delight at that. It was nice to have something that was just his, he had to admit, even if that something wasn't necessarily human. And he so he knew the Outsider existed somewhere still, and that he would be the one to find him. Because nobody else would.

Corvo retraced his path back to the tower, knowing it like the palm of his hand. He had made the journey enough times to barely raise his eyes from the wet cobbles, and he would bet he had travelled this very road more often than not in darkness.

For all the times Corvo had made the journey alone, he was not alone now. It would appear his shadow had resumed following him. Indeed whoever was following him had finally stepped from the shadows, Corvo would hear the soft footsteps padding along the now deserted street behind him. His shadow knew enough to keep himself shrouded in darkness that Corvo could only accept this as an invitation of sorts.

The Lord Protector turned, ready to face his shadow. It was a man, of this Corvo had no doubt. He stood under a faltering oil lamp, mimicking Corvo's stance. Shoulders hunched, one had poised on a sword at his side. He was shorter than Corvo though, and slight, this was evident even through the heavy cloak he wore. His features were obscured by his hood but as Corvo took a bold step closer he began to make out details. A narrow face, like that of a Dunwall street urchin. An urchin trained in spying though?

“Do you speak, shadow?” Corvo finally challenged.

“I do. I come with a message.” His voice was bold and carried on the wind, though held no discerning accent. The stranger's hand dropped from the sword at his side, and he straightened into a less imposing stance. It seemed the stranger considered Corvo to be no threat, as he pulled back his hood to reveal a head of messy black hair, as dark as Corvo's own, eyes as equally dark, his skin lightly tanned too. A Serkonan then?

“From whom? And what should I call you, messenger?”

The young man took a confident step out from under the guttering lamp, raising his hands slightly in a sign of supplication, when Corvo's hand twitched against his blade. The young man closed in on Corvo, pulling him by the arm off the lit street and into a nearby alley.

“I'd rather not do this out in the open, but time is short. The shadows have eyes and the City Watch is always watching, as I'm sure you are aware,” he said as Corvo dislodged his arm from his hold.

“I come with a message from Daud. You can call me Thomas”. Up close Corvo could finally see the other man clearly, could see the urgency in his eyes. An assassin after all. It made sense, and Corvo was genuinely surprised he hadn't thought of it sooner. Probably because he had always assumed he would never hear of the Whalers again after he had spared Daud's life.

“He sent you?” Corvo asked in confusion. “Has he returned to the city?”

A small laugh escaped Thomas' lips. “Of course not. Do you think he's that foolish? No, master Daud is a long way from here, he knows you could have easily taken his life when you had the chance. He isn't one to squander that”.

“Well I hope he sleeps soundly, wherever he is,” Corvo replied bitterly. He had thought he'd put thosfeelings of old anger aside, but sending a Whaler to him...what was Daud thinking? After everything Daud had done to him. To Jessamine and Emily.

“He doesn't actually. I guess you could say that's why I'm here.” Thomas whispered. He bowed his head close to Corvo's clearly paranoid about being heard. “Many months ago my master began dreaming. About you, and the Outsider. He never really told me what the dreams were about but he was sure they had meaning Portents if you will”. Thomas met Corvo's eye in the darkness. “Something did happen, then. Master Daud lost the Outsider's gift. We all did. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?”, Corvo nodded an affirmative.

Thomas reached into his cloak and retrieved a rolled piece of parchment. He pressed it into Corvo's hand. “This is for you, to help you. But with what I don't know. Daud said you'd understand. Don't open it here”, Thomas added quickly when Corvo thumbed the edge of the scroll. “Wait until you're somewhere safe. And we both know it's about to get much worse.”

Thomas lifted his hood once again and turned to make for the mouth of the alley. Corvo slid the sealed parchment into his coat pocket, felt it press against the useless bone charm.

“Why is he doing this?” Corvo asked, Thomas turned to regard him. “Why bother giving me clues? Why would Daud involve himself in my affairs?” Thomas narrowed his eyes, “Because what's happening doesn't just effect you. It effects everyone. Everything. My master thinks you have a job to do, and I don't believe he'd lie about something like that. Be careful, Lord Protector, your enemies are everywhere.” With that Thomas was swiftly leaving the alley, leaving Corvo as abruptly as he had come to him.

 

The cobbled street had lightened to a dark slate by the time Corvo exited the alley. The street was deserted, the lamps on their last legs. As he made his way through the grey dawn and back to the Tower he wondered how long the silence would last.


	5. Undertow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to capture a God.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real life continues to drag me further away from this. Here is a tiny chapter to make up for it while I try to wrangle the plot.

He wakes to darkness. Or least he thinks he does, he has never needed to regain consciousness before. It's not in his nature you see. He simply is. Or was. He isn't sure what he is.

Things, parts of him, ache. He supposes. It isn't often that he adopts a corporeal form. This isn't a form he has chosen, but has been forced into. Although he isn't sure exactly in what form he currently resides. He has taken countless forms in the past, and he will do so again. He is no doubt familiar with his current form, because he conceives of all. It's what he is. He isn't exactly comfortable in this vessel. A dull rumble permeates the air around him. The pressure presses against the sides of his head. The pressure slowly rises from an annoyance to a dull pain. Interesting.

With nothing else do, he waits. After an unspecified amount of time he hears voices. Human voices. And what he believes to be the sound of footsteps. The steps stop before they reach him. The decidedly male voices throw taunts at him which, judging from the tone, are probably intended to wound him. They don't of course, because when have words ever hurt him? The voices ask questions which he doesn’t answer, he's too busy listening to the lilt of the voices, the way in which the shouts carry through the air. If he weren't blind he would be able to see the sound waves. The realization that he is blind hits him like a brick wall. The sensation isn't pleasant. He can't say he's that surprised though, after all hadn't he foreseen all of this?

“I'm blind”, he states softly, trying his voice for the first time. His voice is a rasp but he recognizes it immediately. _Ah, the boy_. By his terms the boy is a rather recent form. The humans seemed to like the boy, with his tousled head of hair and his eyes as black as the ocean is deep.

“The abomination speaks!” the voice replies in a jovial manner. “Yes, you are blind. You are blind because we demand it. Do you understand now, leviathan?

He tilts his head slightly, and tries for a smile.

“We? And who are we exactly?” asks the leviathan. “Wait, let me guess. The Abbey of the Everyman.”

“Indeed. Very perceptive for a monster.” The leviathan frowns in distaste.

“I am no monster. No more than you are.”

The response he receives is a blow to the side of his face. Light blinds him momentarily, and he realizes he hasn't been permanently blinded after all. The rag which serves as his blindfold slides from his eyes. Through the jarring pain to his left cheek the leviathan attempts to assess his situation. He is restrained, unable to move, his weak form forced to it's knees. A man, no doubt his tormentor, crouches at eye level, heavy palm fisted in the blood flecked shirt the leviathan finds himself wearing. The leviathan knows an Overseer when he sees one, even with eyes unused to seeing. The Overseer before him goes unmasked. The his tormentor slips the rag from over the leviathan’s head and lets it fall to the floor as he takes a step back, a smirk plastered on his face.

“There is a reason you are called the Outsider, creature. You are nothing like us. My brothers and I, we are scientists, paladins. Sworn to burn away shadow. And like any good natural philosopher, we are here to learn.”

As his interrogator takes a step back, the Outsider is presented with a view to a machine. The monstrous contraption is vast, and the Outsider is reminded of the seed of a machine he planted in the dreaming minds of Piero Joplin and Anton Sokalov. This machine was created for him though, he knows it in his bones. If he were in any other position he'd be flattered.

“You are going to teach us how to fight the darkness. There is light in all beings, perhaps even you, demon. All we need to do is peel away the shadow”, the Overseer explains. He turns to the huge machine with a smile, fingers dancing up the side until he found a handle. With a flick of the handle the machine roars to life.

The pressure in the air thickens drastically and the Outsider gasped, the pain from the blow to his face a shadow in comparison to this. The air is stifling, his vision blurred and a warm wetness filled his ears and nose. He has never entertained the thought of what it would be like to be human. As amusing as they can be he has never felt the desire to struggle amongst them, to hunger and hurt. Regardless of what he wants though, locked in this weak, soft body he fears he is about to learn. His blood is red and his tears are black, and he hurts.


	6. The Devouring City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remove this burden from me, he prays. Let someone else save this wreck of a city. To whom he prays he doesn't know. The Outsider is lost to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ridiculously talented [Nexele](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Nexele/pseuds/Nexele) has created a stunning piece of [art](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1535258) inspired by the previous chapter. I'm honored this little ol' fic has inspired such lovely art!

Mist is low on the Wrenhaven and the sky is the shade of a bruise, the Tower a foreboding shadow on the edge of the water. The assassin's folded note all but burns a hole in Corvo's pocket but he doesn't open it. Instead he holds it tightly, and by the time he reaches his rooms in the Tower it is creased and dogeared.

Corvo opens the parchment before the hastily stoked fire in his rooms with a shaking hand. He isn't sure what he was expecting, but a scrawled image of Kingsparrow Island in black ink is not it.

The drawing is crude, nothing more than a few uneven lines joined by what Corvo would assume is the painted horizon, but it isn't something he would not recognize. Anyone in the city would know that lonely island with it's disused beacon to travellers like the backs of their hands. Not so disused now though, apparently. Corvo turned the paper over, looking for any mark or clue left by either Daud or Thomas, but there was none.

Running a hand through his unwashed hair, Corvo considered comming the image to the fire. Instead he folded carefully and placed it on the inside pocket of his coat. It's message wasn't something he would forget any time soon, such a clue as it was. Was it plausible that the Outsider could be on Kingsparrow Island, so close after all? It seemed far too easy. These past months Corvo had felt as though he were negotiating a maze blindfolded. Up until three years ago Corvo had considered himself a logical, sensible man and now the only clues he had been given were scraps of knowledge from half insane men and forgotten images in dreams. He hasn't asked for this but it seemed the Outsider had assigned a role for him. In a moment of rebellion Corvo considered simply dropping the trail he had been following and getting on with his life. A life of protecting his Empress like he was meant to, a life of training the guard, and a life of hiding the mark on his left hand. As appealing as the thought sometimes seemed to him he couldn't do it, not with what he knew. The decline of the whales and the self-destruction of the city was always on his mind.

Knowing he won't find any sleep in the meager hours before his duty begins for the day Corvo takes to the corridor and takes in the river. A low fog rises across the river, and on the horizon stands the lighthouse. In the distance a trawler returns to dock, no doubt lacking it's prize. A small boat heads out in the still water towards the lighthouse and Corvo wonders who it carries. Members of the Abbey?

Returning to his rooms Corvo drops his mask into the chest in the corner. He stares at the heart in it's wrappings for a moment, wondering, not for the first time, nor the hundreth time, if he should find some way to discard it. He knew he couldn't though, not yet. He didn't know if she even resided in it any more, but it didn't seem fair to Jessamine to simply drop the heart into the river. When he has finally located the Outsider he will ask him to take the heart back. To let Jessamine finally rest.

 

 

                                                                                                          *

 

 

Two days later the general populace discover the trawlers have been returning to port empty. At a time when the demand for whale oil is at it's highest the city begins to devour itself.

The first course of action is a rationing of whale oil. The dying city grinds to a halt, the wheels of industry slow and the masses quickly become restless. The poor, who had jealously guarded what little power they had to begin with now sit in candle lit squalor.

The city guard attempt to maintain order, which slowly but steadily slips from their grasp. The city curfew goes ignored as the unruly society begins to deteriorate. With no power and little employment the lower classes battle against themselves, accusing one another of witchcraft and imagined slights.  
During the month of Wind the night time cityscape is the colour of blood. Corvo knows about the bonfires started at the foot of the clocktower. Empty oil whale canisters litter the streets, and there are rumours that witches are being burned in the heart of the city. Where the city guard are when this happens Corvo does not know. There are also rumours that it isn't just witches that are being burned, but non-believers, being sacrificed in a fit of desperation to appease their bloody paranoia. Emily trembles when the news reaches the Tower. Her little shoulders and she bites her lip but tears do not full. She is brave, her mother taught her well. Corvo stands behind her, his branded hand pressed to the middle of her back, a silent support should she need it. The brave little thing doesn't once falter in the eyes of her people or her courtly subjects.

Perhaps it is the Abbey of the Everyman who oversee the burning of witches, if this is truly what is happening. They openly condemn all but the most fervent of their followers. For a group who claim to be stalwart and unified against the darkness their paranoia is rife. The masked Overseers stand on every street corner, and through the city speakers claim the loss of power is the fault of the ignorant many who ignore their teachings and worship at the alter of the black eyed devil.

Hysteria spreads like the rat plague and eventually admission to the tower is restricted. Those who live in the tower use what whale oil they have sparingly. Callista advises Emily to remain indoors, and Corvo knows its because even on their little isolated island of luxury the screams and shouts from the city can be heard. Every day Emily's gaze would fall from the books placed before her to the large windows of her study room. The night sky is painted red with the city's perpetual fires. It's all Corvo sees at night, when he isn't seeing bleeding black eyes.

 

"Please return to your studies, my Empress", Callista would say softly. When Emily finally pulled her attention away from the outside would her eyes would be distant and troubled. "I hear them at night", the young Empress confided. "They are my people, and there is nothing I can do for them". From his station at the door Corvo meets Callista's gaze. He knows what Emily hears, because he hears it too. He even walks amongst them some nights, knew the aristocracy had taken to boarding themselves up in their mansions, through hysteric fear of the desperate lower classes. Callista pats Emily's knee. "It may seem like that now, but we'll find a way to help them. We always do", Callista replies hopefully. Emily nodded solemnly, but for all her youth she knows Callista's words were empty. The Heart had once told Corvo the Void would eventually devour all the lights in the city. He had never anticipated he would be here to see it happen.

 

 

                                                                                                          *

 

 

Being confined to the Tower almost drives Corvo to madness. The howls of the dying city don't stop and sometimes he fancies the calls and screams are getting closer. He stays at Emily's side and hopes against hope for a message from the Institute of Natural Philosophy. _Remove this burden from me_ , he prays. _Let someone else save this wreck of a city_. To whom he prays he doesn't know. The Outsider is lost to him.

Day in and day out, Kingsparrow Island awaits him on the horizon. Patient, it taunts him.

Corvo knows no matter how much praying he does he will still be the one expected to find a way to the island, find a way in and locate the deity the universe has decided to devour. He is well aware that the longer he remains at the Tower the longer Dunwall will continue to consume itself. It is so easy to turn his back on the dreams, the void, the simple message delivered by Thomas from Daud, it feels like another life. Just one more life he didn't ask for. It would be so simple to throw himself into training the guards in the courtyard, overseeing the messages only now received occasionally from beyond the Tower.

His guilt fuelled dreams are a sharp reminder of what needs to be done. The City was the Void, and the Void was the City. The only black eyes are his own, and he is left with the ruin of a drowned Dunwall. _This will come to pass_ , the Outsider, who is died, tells him. There is no room for uncertainty in the bleeding wreck of his eyes. Corvo grasps with frantic hands; the Outsider's thin fingers, his willowy shoulders, _anything_ to anchor himself. But he knows he must reap what he has sown.

 

 

                                                                                                          *

 

 

On the second day of the month of Darkness Corvo awakens knowing what had to be done, his resolve hardened. Regardless of his own choices the Outsider has stubbornly dug his claws into him. It is common said amongst the heretics that the Outsider's chosen were picked when even the black eyed god himself were young. Corvo Attano has never wanted such a curse (or a blessing as he sometimes thinks), yet time and again his life has intertwined with the existence of the Leviathan.

He dresses for the day in his usual garb. As he collects his weapons he spares the Heart a glance. He hopes with all he has that she has finally found peace.

Before Corvo is summoned for breakfast with his Empress he pays a visit to the armory. He drops his blade on the table in front of the smith and requests the sword be repaired and maintained by evening. The smith laughs and explains that he'll be busy for the next two days making armour and swords for the new recruits employed to protect the entrance to the Tower. Corvo removes a number of gold coins from his coat pocket and slips them into the smith's upturned palm.

"You'll be much quicker than that," the lord protector murmurs with a small smile. "After all, you're the best smith I've ever met". Flattery works in all facets of royal court it seems.

Too preoccupied with what he plans for that night Corvo eats little at breakfast. Even if he wanted to he wouldn't be able to eat, the anxiety of what needs to be done has his stomach in knots. The Outsider may have orchestrated this entire plan so Corvo would be the only one appointed this task but he is only human after all. He forces laughter at Emily's small comments about not wanting to study when the sun is so bright, not wanting to make her aware of his discomfort. The poor girl already has enough bearing down on her slender shoulders. Hopefully, that will be changing very shortly.

The lord protector spends the morning at Emily's side, then sparring with the soldiers, when the excess energy gets the better of him. When on the upper levels of the Tower Corvo avoids gazing out across the river to the accursed lighthouse. He instead pulls the folded up scrap given to him by Thomas from the inside of his coat and stares obsessively at the fading ink drawing. Every time he looks he hopes to spot something he missed the first hundred times. He hopes he has foolishly mistaken the illustration for a different location, but this is never the case. Here is Burrow's Lighthouse in all it's glory. There is even little lines reaching out from the top of the lighthouse, meant to convey beams of light. That particular feature has been mostly absent in the past few weeks, owing to the lack of whale oil. He remembers the glass structure at the top of the tower all too well, the ridiculous statue of the former Lord Regent, no doubt pulled down by the Abbey by now. It would be an understatement to say he would rather not go there again.

As the sun begins to set on another stiflingly hot day (The kind of weather that gives way to heavy rain during the night no doubt) a young guard approaches him to pass on the message that his sword awaits him at the armory. Emily looks up from her easel, having previously been engrossed in attempting to paint a long suffering Callista, who has been ordered to sit on the edge of a window seat for the painting. That was two hours ago. The tutor slumps her shoulders from the rigid position she has been holding when Emily turns to Corvo.

"If I may be excused, my Empress?" Corvo asks lightly. "Only if you hurry back," Emily responds, raising her eyebrows. "You're going to be next!", She smiles mischievously, waving her paintbrush in Callista's direction.

 

 

                                                                                                          *

 

 

As predicted, the rain begins once Emily has been ushered to bed at the end of a long day. The lighthouse can no longer be seen from Dunwall Tower, but Corvo knows it's location like the back of his hand, having spent hours previous spent poring over blueprints found in the library.

With no boat to take him to shore at this hour Corvo makes his way unharrased through the courtyard and down the gang way, to the base of the water lock. To the left of the water lock is a plain wall. Plain except for an almost invisible button, only really visible if it were being looked for. Beyond this wall is a gate leading to the extensive sewer running beneath Dunwall Tower. Corvo finds the gate with surprising ease. Despite never having used the hidden passage before he had been privy to it's existence over a decade before. The former spy master had made him aware of it, it was only to be used in the case of the royal family needing to escape the Tower.

Corvo makes his way once again, and with no small amount of reluctance, through the sewer. The stench and atmosphere reminding him all too readily of those dreaded events of two years prior. It appears being in service to the Outsider is going to return him to many places he'd rather not tread.

After a long time making his way slowly through the dank passages, and with his hand on the grip of his sword Corvo cautiously exits the sewer. He climbs his way, with some trouble, to street level, wondering where exactly he had been deposited. The echo of screaming carries on the foul air. The noise grows in volume as he makes his way down the unknown street. He takes a left at a vaguely familiar junction, gradually getting his bearings. The streets, normally so easy to recognize, are difficult to identify with their doors and windows boarded up. The dilapidated town all too quickly brings to mind the rat plague, the thought sending an unwelcome shiver up Corvo's spine. The strength of the rains increases, and so the lord protector increased his speed, turning his collar up again the rain.

The desperate screaming that had started as an echo is now a solid wall of sound. Corvo wonders if he is about to encounter a mob, judging from the raised voices he hears from around the street corner. He slows his pace, unsure of what to expect. Taking a deep breath, and raising his gun on reflex, he steps round the corner and is momentarily blinded. Raising his hand to his brow he takes in the fire and the vision before him. He discovers the screaming and shouting is the result of something he had hoped was only a rumour. He has stumbled upon a witch burning.


	7. Black mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's terrible, and lovely, and so very curious. He's almost child-like, yet the oldest thing you could ever conceive of.
> 
> He's leading us to our graves.

The masses rally against an easy scapegoat, the supposed followers of the Outsider. They beat them in the town square. They ask, no, they command them to renounce their heathen beliefs. Whether they renounce them or not, it makes no difference. They all burn at night.

 

The lights and macabre shadows play off the walls of the small square. Corvo presses himself against the wall, makes himself as unnoticeable as possible. He wears gloves of course, but his hand is still branded with the Outsider's mark. All it would take would be for him to catch the eye of the wrong person. From his position he sees only two members of the Abbey. They don't help as a group from the crowd drag someone (a figure of skin and bones in rags from what Corvo can see. No distinguishing signs hint at gender) to the a stake amidst the wreckage of fire wood in the centre of the street. The Overseers watch, but they certainly don't stop it.

 

Corvo turns away from the sight before him, wanting no part in the poor soul's suffering. He pulls his hood further over his face, not wanting to attract attention to himself. If he still maintained his gifts he would have liberated the soul being lashed to the stake. He curls his fingers into a fist on reflex, but his brand doesn't burn and he remains where he is. Of course.

 

“Where is your demon now?” a voice from the rabble rises above the others. The jape is followed by laughter. No response is forthcoming from the terrified individual tied to the stake, but Corvo knows they are probably whispering a prayer to the absent leviathan.

 

Slowly the Lord Protector makes his way down the opposite side of the town square, searching for the left turning he knows to be there. The rain is insistent but isn't enough to quell the wrath of the masses. Their torches burn as bright as their hate, and so Corvo knows without a shadow of a doubt that the heat licking across his back is the same heat that licks the bare skin of the crowd's sacrifice. They cheer and the poor fool screams, Corvo prays futilely that his demise will be quick. He knows that won't happen.

 

As he hastens in the opposite direction of the burning he hears someone conversely comment. ”If they insist on worshipping the darkness how can they be surprised when the darkness eventually comes for them?” Another laughs in agreement and Corvo feels an uncharacteristic hatred for the lot of them. The Overseers, the people. The Outsider. Let them all burn for allowing this to happen.

 

 

                                                                                                          *

 

 

Corvo's path is blocked more often than not, but the city map is carved into his mind and heart, and he couldn't get lost if he tried. The streets are for the most part desolate, some avenues barred off completely by the City Watch. The night is becoming more and more reminiscent to the terrible dealings of two years ago, and Corvo wishes he had had the choice to turn his back on this whole fiasco. He thinks of his beloved Emily though and knows that would have never happened. As long as the Outsider remains missing the Empress's downfall is assured. If the plague were to take the entire city, or flames consume it, Dunwall Tower would be the last to fall. _But it would still fall_. A small part of him knows that he surely owes the Outsider this at least.

 

And so he finds himself at the Hounds Pit once again. Corvo knows his quarry would not be mad enough to be spending this evening out in the rain, despite how much he may say otherwise.

 

The lock on the back door of the pub is ridiculously easy to pick, and he slides into the pub unnoticed. Corvo's plan had been to search the rooms above, but a single light source from the bar catches his eye. On a light foot and keeping to the shadows he makes his way through the door way, palm on the hilt of his sword just in case. He finds Samuel, alone at the bar, save for a single candle and an empty glass. He looks like a painting, all lit up like this. Or a beacon, waiting for Corvo to find him. Corvo does wonder, at the lone empty glass, and the boatman's downcast eyes, if he has been expecting him.

 

“Samuel”, Corvo murmurs quietly, not wishing to awaken any sleeping occupants.

 

Samuel looks up, but doesn't seem at all surprised to see him. “Evening, sir”.

 

“I think you mean good morning, it's gone midnight.”

 

Samuel raises an eyebrow, taking in Corvo's bedraggled appearance. “Well. Judging from the looks of you I'd guess you didn't battle your way here just to argue semantics. So, what can I do for you?”

 

Corvo swallows and takes a tentative step into the candle light. _He can only say no. Then we'll really be up the creek without a paddle._

 

“Samuel, I need you to know I wouldn't ask this of you unless it was absolutely necessary. I need your help. Again.”

 

“Again? You've got yourself into some kind of trouble?”

 

“In a manner of speaking I suppose you could say that. I need to go somewhere. Tonight.”

 

“And where might that be?”

 

“Kingsparrow Island.”

 

Samuel raises both eyebrows at that. “The lighthouse, again?” He pushes back from the bar, lifting himself off the stool he has been perched on. “Mister Corvo, if I didn't know any better I'd think you only liked me for my boat.”

 

“On the contrary Samuel, I can't go to anyone else, there is no one else I'd trust enough-”

 

“Mister Corvo, I jest,” Samuel raises a hand in mock supplication. “Please. I'm mighty flattered you think so highly of me, and I you, of course. And I'll take you to your lighthouse if that's really what you want. But first, I have to ask is this about- what we spoke of last time? The whales and...what’s becoming of the city?”

 

“It is. I wish it wasn't...but it is. I don't know what else to do.” _I'm moving on faith alone now_. That was how he felt now, pawing blindly in the darkness. No pale hands to beckon him forward.

 

“Do you really think you'll find what you're looking for out there? On that island?”

 

Corvo nodded. _I sure hope so_.

 

Samuel lets out a sigh. “Okay. I ain't stupid enough to ask any more questions, I feel I know too much already. But I know enough to trust you. You're no fool, Corvo. I have no reason to believe you're on a fool's errand if it's this important to you.”

 

“Thank you”, Corvo replies in relief and genuine gratitude.

 

“We'll need to wait this weather out though. It may be bad now, but it'll wear itself out soon enough”.

 

 

                                                                                                          *

 

 

An hour passes, and Samuel is proven to be correct. The heavy clouds quickly depart from the Dunwall sky, and the city is left with an air of calm, almost oppressive in it's stillness.

 

They lock up the pub behind them, and made their way down the gravelly path to the Amaranth. Corvo removes the tarp, and takes a seat inside the boat, Samuel following in after him. He pulls his hood back up self-consciously. The witch burning is still fresh in his mind and he fancies he can still hear the cries on the still air. He shudders and keeps his eyes lowered as they sail passed Dunwall Tower, not needing to be reminded of the things he'll lose should he fail tonight. He instead inspects the brand on the back of his hand, yet another reminder of what he could lose. He can't bring himself to look upon his dying city, see the skyline painted in strokes of flame. The colours of the blood that is being spilled. Samuel in turn watches him, no judgement in his gaze. Only curiosity.

 

The Amaranth soon departs the river estuary, and Corvo eventually spies the open sea, as calm and perfect as a mirror. Or the void. The moon is as bright and as watchful as an eye in the sky. It's almost surreal in it's perfection.

 

For a moment Corvo fights back the mad urge to tell Samuel to head back to the city, or even worse, to just keep going until they reach the ocean proper. His heart leaps into his throat, it would be so easy to collapse at Samuel's feet and tell him, yes, you're right this is a fool's errand.

 

_I know of scientists who have built incredible machines. Because they dream of them. I've put into motion a half-thought out plan based on the words of assassins and mad men. I'm a mad man. I'm going forward on faith alone. Faith in a God who no longer answers my prayers. Or anyone's. You would too though, Samuel, if you'd met him. He's terrible, and lovely, and so very curious. He's almost child-like, yet the oldest thing you could ever conceive of._

 

_He's leading us to our graves._

 

“You okay, mister Corvo?”

 

All he had to do was speak.

 

“I'm fine, Samuel”, Corvo mumbles.

 

“You sure? You don't look it.”

 

“Mild sea sickness, nothing to worry about.”

 

It's the most ridiculous lie he could have thought of, and Samuel doesn't buy it for a moment.

 

The lie hangs heavily between them, but Samuel merely nods. _This is the story we're going with, then._

 

The boat takes a right bearing and soon enough the lighthouse is in view. The lamp is not lit, and the tower looks, to Corvo's eye, all but abandoned. At Corvo's suggestion Samuel takes the boat round the right of the island, to an inlet of rocks. The boatman would be easily hidden from view if the island were not as uninhabited as they had been lead to believe.

 

Corvo eyes the dilapidated fortress that looms over them. In the past two years since the military have abandoned it the building has fallen into a state of disrepair, but it is still one of many places Corvo had wished never to set foot in again.

 

When the Amaranth has come to a stop the Lord Protector climbs over the side of the boat and into the shallow waters. He takes a deep breath of sea air and touches the sword at his side in reassurance. He turns back to Samuel, not at all expecting the look of calm and understanding that plays across his withered features.

 

“Thank you Samuel, for everything. If you need to go I understand.”

 

“I got nowhere else to be at this time of night. I can stay. How long do you think you'll be?”

 

“An hour. Maybe two. If I'm not back in two hours, just leave. And don't look back.”

 

Samuel nods in understanding. His eyes are kindly, but he has the solemn look of a man leading another to the gallows. Maybe he is.

 

“And Samuel...if I don't come out, please don't stay in the city.”

 

The boatman's brow furrow in confusion. “But where else would I go?"

 

“Anywhere but there. If I fail here you'll pack up your things in Dunwall, and leave. Promise me that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been a long time coming, sorry about that. I'm writing this for you guys, if you haven't already lost patience with me.
> 
> Any mistakes in this chapter are my own, as this work is not beta'd.
> 
> I hope it doesn't seem like I'm taking liberties with Samuel's character :S We don't see much of him in the game, but I always liked him, and felt that should Corvo prove himself to be a good person (IE NOT killing people all over the city), the two would be good friends.


	8. The pit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a light at the end of the tunnel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for violence, blood, implied torture and Corvo beating people up.

The island is too quiet, an oppressive silence hangs over it. Corvo keeps to the shadows anyway, feeling unnecessarily exposed under the harsh gaze of the moon. Burrows' fortress, abandoned so soon after being completed lay in a state of disrepair, already succumbing to the elements. The huge derelict brings to mind the bared bones of a great leviathan. The unwarranted comparison sends a chill up Corvo's spine.

 

Despite the island's current state of abandonment Corvo feels eyes on him at all times. Not wanting to remain longer than was needed he moves quickly and quietly towards the lighthouse. In a fit of paranoia he slides the metal mask from the inside of his coat and over his face. He feels safer once he has pulled the hood over his head.

 

The remains of Sokolov's brief cooperation with the former spy master are still evident. Two dismantled arc pylons stood sentinel at the entrance to the fort. A rusted wall of light hung uselessly from the doorway. Clearly nobody had decided to clean up after Corvo's last foray on the island.

 

Corvo moves across the island's abandoned courtyard. At the base of the cable bridge that connected to the lighthouse itself was what appeared to be a lift. The lift was of a simple design, little more than control panel and brass panel in the ground, but the lord protector knew for a fact that it had not been there two years ago.

 

By the light of the moon Corvo easily makes out the buttons on the keypad. A simple up and down function accompanied by a key hole.

 

He was about to absently brush his palm over the panel when a voice echoed across the courtyard.

 

“Don't touch it.” The voice was sharp and authoritative.

 

Corvo looks back behind him, to find an Overseer stepping out of the shadows of the fortress.

 

He takes in the raised pistol in the Overseer's right hand, the metal mask protecting him. Corvo made a snap decision, deciding to worry about the consequence later. Before the Overseer could take a further step Corvo pulled his own pistol from it's holster and took aim for the Overseer's right knee. The shot rang out across the empty courtyard, and Corvo was upon the man before he even hit the floor. He dragged the disoriented Overseer to the ground, pulling the metal mask from his face, as the Overseer groaned and attempted in reach towards his shattered knee.

 

With an arm crushed against the Overseer's windpipe Corvo placed his other hand over the man's mouth. “No more screaming”, he whispered into the other man's ear. “Or I'll break your other kneecap”. The Overseer cried out behind Corvo's hand, sweat falling from his brow and tears from his eyes. “Do you understand?”. The Overseer struggled briefly in his grip, hands coming up to paw uselessly at Corvo's arm. Corvo pressed down further on his windpipe, restricting his breathing. “I said, do you understand?” The man whimpered in Corvo's grip, his arms falling to his sides, his body going limp. He nodded.

 

Corvo looked up, half expecting to find himself surrounded by more members of the Abbey, yet the courtyard was as empty as it had been. Having one guard to guard the yard clearly meant Abbey had not been anticipating visitors. That was their first mistake.

 

The Overseer was unceremoniously hoisted up and dragged across the courtyard towards the lift, groaning and weeping behind Corvo's gloved hand. He stumbled over his shattered leg again and again.

 

“Do you have the key?” Corvo asked, nodding towards to keypad. The Overseer groaned what could have been a negative from behind Corvo's hand and shook his head erratically. Corvo had already spied the set of keys though and without a second thought pulled them from where they hung from the Overseer's belt.

 

The keyring was huge and heavy and Corvo resigned himself to having to try each key on the lift. He was pleasantly surprised though when, on the third key, the lift whirred to life below his feet. Corvo pressed the button indicating down and the grinding of gears could be heard. The lift sank slowly below the surface and Corvo and the Overseer were engulfed in darkness. He felt the Overseer begin to slip against him, clearly exhausted and beyond pain from trying to keep upright on his shattered leg. Corvo pulled the Overseer against his chest, to alleviate the weight on his leg. It wouldn't do to have the Overseer pass out right then, after all he was still needed.

 

Corvo hesitantly removed his hand from over the Overseer's mouth, but kept a hold on his neck.

 

“How many can I expect down there?” Corvo had to raised his voice to be heard over the grinding of the lift.

 

“Many of my brothers wait below. We knew you were coming, you'll be at our mercy before you can even step off the lift”.

 

It was a lie, the whole thing. The words rolled too freely from the other man's mouth to be nothing more than practiced lines. If the Abbey had somehow been aware he was on his way surely they could have stationed more than a single guard on the ground? Corvo was disappointed.

 

“So what's down there? What can I expect?” Corvo tried again.

 

“There's nothing down there”. The Overseer winced in pain and tried again.”It's a research facility. There is nothing of interest for you.”

 

Corvo smiled at that. “If you were truly expecting me than you would know that's not the case.”

 

“I have no idea what you're talking about” the Overseer said, faltering once again in Corvo's grip.

 

“You're a terrible liar”.

 

The journey down was slow, and Corvo noticed a significant decline in temperature. By the time they reached their destination the Overseer was shivering, barely conscious. Corvo shook him and dragged him off the lift into what appeared to be a deserted corridor. Four doors led off the long, narrow corridor, two on each side.

 

“Where is he?” Corvo asked, certain the Overseer knew exactly who he spoke of.

 

“Oh, just kill me and be done with it, you wretch! If you think I'll lend assistance to one such as-” his diatribe was cut short as Corvo pushed the Overseer against the wall and landed a firm punch against the side of his jaw. The Overseer tripped once over his injured leg and landed in an undignified pile at the foot of the lift. Whatever lay before him, Corvo was certain he could deal with it alone. Two of the four sconces lining the corridor walls were broken, and the remainig two flickered back and forth rhythmically, as though conveying a message. The darkened, and empty corridor had an air of abandonment about it, unusual for a place which had not existed two years ago.

 

Corvo stayed in the shadows, waiting to see if anyone would make an appearance at the sound of the Overeer collapsing. After a few minutes no one was forthcoming, and Corvo tried the handle of the door on his left. The door was predictably locked. He pressed his eye to the keyhole and found the room beyond to be in utter darkness. He waited a moment longer at the door, but he heard nothing from behind it.

 

The lock was easy enough to destroy, and Corvo entered silently. He took a step into the room and was hit by the stench of blood. Even through his mask he cold smell it, and for a second he was back in Coldridge, surrounded on all sides by violence and despair.

 

Corvo fought through the memories. He was no help to the Outsider if he couldn't stomach the smell of blood. His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and he made out ahead of him a large room filled with large apparatus. He was reminded of his visit to the Academy of Natural Philosophy. As he took a step closer to the table before him he could make out yet another reminder of the Academy, a disassembled music box. The Holger's device, as the Abbey had so proudly dubbed it. And not just one. Four music boxes lay in varying states of disrepair before him. Here was one without a crank, while the one beside it had a missing barrel. The music box on the far right was stained in something, but it was too dark to make out what. Corvo suspected blood, which sent a chill down his spine. He hoped against hope for the Outsider's safety, and dreaded what it could mean if the Abbey had made a god bleed.

 

The table at the back of the room contained a ceramic sink filled with instruments. Corvo looks closer and saw syringes. A hammer. Two knives. Someone had made a halfhearted attempt of clearing up the obvious signs of vivisection. On the table next to the sink lay a pile of material. Corvo absently unfolded the cloth, revealing a torn and blood stained jacket. There was something distinctly familiar about it. He pictured the too long sleeves, what they would look like, untorn, lying heavily over thin hands. And the high, blood stained collar. It hadn't been blood stained last time he'd seen it, had it. Last time he'd seen it it had protected a slender pale neck. He held up the rag, the unremarkable piece of clothing he's seen in remarkable places. In countless shrines, and in his dreams. In his chambers of all places, by the fireplace, where it's owner had laughed, and Corvo had had to remind himself that his companion was older than time itself.

 

Corvo dropped the jacket and took a step back. His blood beat a staccato in his ears and he made his way back through the darkness. Panic almost seized him then as the magnitude of his situation finally hit him. They had taken a god, and now they world was eating itself. They had taken a god, _Corvo's_ god and made him bleed. What gave them the right?

 

He pulled the mask off in the semi-darkness of the corridor, almost tangling it in his hair in his desperation. Wiping sweat from his face, Corvo becomes aware of a sound on the air. The sound was piercing, yet low, and on the edge of his hearing. He almost couldn't hear it, but what he does hear is enough to set his hair on edge.

 

The sound got louder and heavier the further Corvo walked the pathway. Corvo's shoulders began to sag and he felt as though he was marching under water. It's then that the familiarity of the sound hit him. It was the sound of the Overseer's music boxes, only so much louder. It's the sheer volume of the note than makes it almost unrecognizable.

 

As Corvo reached the end of the corridor he found the persistent noise coming from beyond the door on the far left. He pressed his forehead against the door's cold metal as he noticed the door had no handle, no key hole.

 

The noise of the music box is almost unbearable this close, and Corvo dares not think how terrible it must be beyond the door. But he must.

 

He pressed a shoulder against the door and gave it a push. Locked as expected, but as he presses his ear to the door he fancies he hears someone beyond it. Someone is speaking in a low, calm voice, though Corvo could'nt make out a word.

 

With no other plans forthcoming Corvo took a step back and replaced his mask and hood. He gives the door a polite knock and waits for an answer.

 

Corvo waits perhaps 10 seconds before knocking again, louder this time. The metal door finally opened with a groan, and Corvo was faced with a flash of greying hair, and no metal mask, through the crack in the door. Before the man on the other side could react Corvo raised a leg and directed a fierce kick against the edge of the door, sending the man beyond sprawling.

 

The Lord Protector followed the man in and was on him in an instant. He registered in the back of his mind that there were no hands pulling him from his quarry, yet another mistake on the Abbey's part.

 

The man, dazed from his position on the floor, didn't get a chance to call for help before Corvo aimed a punch to the side of his face. The Overseer's hands crawled up Corvo's arms as Corvo grabbed at the front of his uniform and landed two consecutive punches. The Overseer collapsed back on the hard ground, nose leaking blood, eyes already darkening.

 

Corvo gasped for breath as he pulled himself off the other man, and to his feet. He stumbled and turned before he finds the source of the infernal noise that fills the air.

 

A gigantic metal construct covers the wall to the left of the door. The machine was a juggernaut of a creation, akin to the Holger's device, but on a massive scale. The huge barrel turned steadily, as did the small hand crank attached to the side of the monstrosity. Taking the crank in both hands Corvo, putting all his weight behind it, pushed against the turning handle until it eventually came to a stop. The barrel slowed, and with it came silence. The pressure finally lifted from the cold room and Corvo breathed a sigh of relief.

 

He took in the room he found himself in. If his first thought is vast, his second is _bright_. This room alone, more of an echoing cavern really, makes up for the darkness of the rest of the...'research facility', as the Overseer had so eloquently put it. The room is distractingly bright, almost blindingly so. He stumbled back over to the man he had wrestled to the ground. An Overseer as Corvo has initially suspected, he wore a black leather apron over his dark uniform. Like a butcher, or a surgeon. Or both, judging from the instruments found in the workshop. The Overseer's arms were covered in black, elbow length gloves. Glass and blood littered the ground at his feet. By the huge door Corvo found unbroken vials. Whoever the Overseer was he had been collecting blood samples. From who? _From him_.

 

Corvo finds him, finally, in the center of the room. What Corvo had initially presumed to be a pile of rags had proven to be something quite different on closer inspection. The rags, the blood stained shirt, the torn trousers contain a boy. An emaciated, wounded boy. He hadn't always been a boy, he had once been something more.

 

Corvo kneels beside him reverently. He takes in the chain round the pale ankle, the purple and black veins in the crook of his arm, the blood at his hairline. He places a hand at the back of the boy's neck, and his hand comes away sticky and red. He tries again, a small sound of horror escaping him as his hand slides through the blood. Blue eyes flicker open as his head is lifted from the ground. His eyes are too pale in the nest of bruises around them. Strange really, they had been as black as an oil slick last time Corvo saw them. Corvo sees red as he takes in what has happened to the god before him. He sees freckles which weren't there before. His lips are torn, and there is blood between his teeth when he finally opens his mouth.

 

“You're late” the boy croaks quietly. He tries to smile but it doesn't reach his new, pale eyes.

 

_You're human_ , Corvo thinks as he lifts the Outsider into his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Outsider with freckles sustains me, truly.


	9. You are the blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blood hides something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argendriel has done an amazing piece of fanart of the lovely human!Outsider, which you can view [ here ](http://argendriel.tumblr.com/post/110821733695/doodle-for-the-latest-chapter-of-the-lighthouse). Thank you so much doll!
> 
> Please be advised that this chapter contains discussion of torture, and a lot of gore and blood. Tread carefully.

Corvo removed his coat and wrapped it round the Outsider's shivering shoulders, as he all but carried him into the darkened corridor.

 

The metal collar that had restricted the Outsider's movement had been attached to a chain screwed into the middle of the floor, which Corvo had made short work of with a finely placed bullet. The sound of the bullet echoed throughout the cavernous room and beyond, but thankfully it drew no attention. The facility was indeed empty.

 

Corvo stepped forward and attempted to lift the Outsider as he had so many times with Emily.

 

“Wait,” The Outsider gasped as he tried to stand. His weak legs bent awkwardly beneath him as he was lifted.

 

“It's okay, you're fine,” Corvo reassured him quietly.

 

The Outsider took a deep breathe and dropped his head against Corvo's chest, clearly exhausted from the attempt at standing. The chain hung limply between them from the heavy metal collar encasing the Outsider's slender neck. The line of his neck drew Corvo's eye, until it fell on the bloody ruin on the back of his neck. _What have they done to you?_

 

He had to resist the urge to just scoop the boy into his arms and leave the room, but he reasoned he would at least leave the god with what little dignity remained. Instead he had removed his coat and slipped it round the Outsider's shoulders. The boy gave a small nod of thanks, but didn't meet Corvo's eye. The Lord Protector looked away, giving the Outsider a moment to find his feet. He couldn't imagine what it was like for a being who had never felt pain to so suddenly be bombarded with such physical trauma.

 

The Outsider leaned into Corvo's side. He wobbled on his thin legs and Corvo rested an arm round his shoulders to support him. They slowly made their way towards the door, the Outsider all the while favoring his left leg, leaning into the man beside him. As they made their slow progress Corvo was painfully aware of the Outsider's laboured breathing. He wondered if the boy had suffered some king of internal injury. He'd be sure to check him over once they were out of this place.

 

They made their away past the imposing machine built into the wall, and by the time they had reached the door the Outsider's bare feet were painted with the blood of his torturer.

 

In the darkened corridor Corvo nudged the body of the unconscious Overseer over to the wall with his boot. The Outsider emitted a begrudging thanks when he realised he wouldn't need to lift his injured leg to step over the Overseer.

 

The key was still in the elevator keypad when they reached it, and the journey to the surface was strained with pain and tension. Corvo couldn't guess how long he had spent down there, and he hoped against hope that Samuel was still moored on the edge of the island.

 

The darkness and the proximity was unbearable. When the Outsider faltered at Corvo's side, the Lord Protector raised a hand to his shoulder to steady him. The Outsider leaned into him again, his breathing fast and erratic. Corvo supposed breathing may sometimes be difficult for an entity who up until recently hadn't really needed a corporeal body.

 

“What did they do?” Corvo ventured quietly when the awkwardness got the better of him.

 

The Outsider shuddered against him. “I was blind for a lot of it. But I can guess blades were involved sometimes. It's strange really,” he continued “I've seen it all before, but I've never experienced pain. The things you humans inflict on each other...you're very inventive. Some of it even I wouldn't have thought of.”

 

“That machine...the one that sounded like the Abbey's music boxes, it was what made you human?” Corvo asked quietly.

 

“In a way,” the Outsider replied simply. “You'll notice that I am still not what I once was. That machine of theirs immobilised me.”

 

“I don't understand. Why are you still human?”

 

In reply the Outsider lifted the hand resting on his shoulder and pressed it to the back of his neck. Once again Corvo's fingers slipped through the warm stickiness there. He didn't press down for fear of injuring the boy further, but his fingers slid down the back of his collar. He was bleeding there too, at the top of his back.

 

“What is it? What did they do to you?” Corvo asked in shock.

 

“I'll show you once we're somewhere safer.”

 

Corvo nodded in the darkness. He'd wait until they reached the city, if the boy could hold out that long.

 

 

                                                                                                          *

 

 

They reached the surface without incidence. The Outsider had grown paler on the journey up, if that was possible.

 

They followed the trail of blood from where the Overseer had been shot, to the battlements of the fortress. “Nearly there,” Corvo said, either for his own comfort or the Outsider's.

 

They found Samuel not far from where Corvo had left him. In the hour that Corvo had ventured further into the Island Samuel had moved the Amaranth further up the coast to conceal it from any prying eyes.

 

It had been coming up for the hour mark when Corvo had found the boat. Samuel climbed out onto the wet sand when he noticed the wounded figure at the Lord Protector's side.

 

“Corvo! What happened? Who.. is this?” He eyed the injured Outsider but didn't hesitate to help Corvo lead him to the Amaranth.

 

“He was being held by the Overseers, he's injured,” Corvo explained as he lifted the Outsider under his legs and arms and over the edge of the boat. He was careful to avoid touching his neck, and though the Outsider grumbled at his manhandling, he didn't complain. Corvo climbed in behind him.

 

Corvo spared the island a cursory glance as Samuel started the Amaranth's engine, and they were soon on their way back to Dunwall. He would have to look into getting that infernal machine underground dismantled at some point. Regardless of whether or not it could be used again to ensnare the Outsider he would not be taking any chances.

 

Corvo leaned forward on the bench, to provide silent support should the Outsider need it. The Outsider immediately pressed his shoulders back against Corvo's chest, obviously in more pain than he was letting on. His fingers squeezed uselessly against the wood of the boat's bench. He was practically drowned in Corvo's large coat, but the Lord Protector raised a hand to his shoulder. The last thing he needed was the Outsider passing out due to blood loss. His fears were realised when the Outsider hung his head and Corvo got a glimpse of the fresh, dark blood staining the collar of his coat. “We won't be long” he reassured him quietly. The Outsider nodded in acknowledgement.

 

Over the Outsider's shoulder Corvo could see Samuel eying the boy suspiciously. He wondered if the Outsider was gazing back. Despite the boat's motor a tense atmosphere permeated the boat. Corvo squeezed the Outsider's shoulders to keep him upright and looked back at the lighthouse. It was fast becoming a mere shadow against the dark horizon.

 

The tension was eventual broken by Samuel. “You,” he nodded to the Outsider. “I know you, don't I?”

 

The Outsider barely shifted under Corvo's hands. “No, I don't think so,” he replied quietly. Samuel laughed incredulously.

 

“I think I do. I think I know exactly who you.”

 

The Outsider remained quiet. Samuel's gaze finally met Corvo's.

 

“Corvo, what have you got yourself into? What happened back there?”

 

Corvo squeezed the Outsider's shoulder in a show of protection. He knew Samuel wouldn't hurt him, but he was well aware he hadn't been exactly forthcoming when it came to his recently activities.

 

“Samuel, I can explain. I will explain, but not here. Back at the Hound Pits. I swear, you just need to bear with me. Trust me.”

 

“Can I trust you, Mr. Corvo?” his voice quivered.

 

Corvo's blood ran cold. “Samuel, after all we've been through, you ask me this now? You know me. And I know I haven't told you exactly what is going on here, but that’s only to keep you safe!”

 

The Outsider was no doubt listening to their exchange with great interest, but if he had any opinion on the matter he kept it to himself.

 

“I need you, of all people to trust me right now, Samuel. I can't do this without you. You know I'd do anything, anything to protect this city, don't you? That's what I'm doing right now. I need to protect Emily. And you. And...and him.” He gently nudged the Outsider.

 

For the longest time Samuel simply stared at Corvo. The lord protector was growing increasingly uncomfortable under his scrutiny when the boatman eventually nodded.

 

“Okay. Well, I can hardly turn the boat round and take you back to the island now, can I?” Corvo breathed a sigh of relief, willing his heart to stop hammering.

 

“But this isn't over, Mr Corvo. We're going to have a chat. About what you haven’t been telling me. And about that”. He gestured towards the Outsider.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Corvo gazed upon the city, empty of the song of the Void, and heavy with cries of bloodshed.

 

  
                                                                                                          *

 

 

They returned to the Hound Pits mere hours before dawn. The Outsider was breathing heavily as Samuel roped the boat in. Corvo took in the boy's pallid skin, his freckles stark against his immaculate complexion. Without a second thought he scooped the boy into his arms again, coat and all. The Outsider was in no position to complain and he was carried off the boat and onto solid ground.

The Outsider roused in his arms, his eyes immediately falling on the abandoned tower next to the pub. “There. There, that's where we need to be,” he stated simply. Corvo looked up at the empty building in confusion, wondering if maybe the Outsider wasn't as lucid as he initially believed.

 

“He talks after all?” Samuel smirked from the boat.

 

“Are you okay?” Corvo asked the boy. “I don't understand.”

 

“You will. I need your help, Corvo. Get me up there, and I'll tell you what needs to be done.” He fought to keep his eyes open, and Corvo pressed his cold hand to the Outsider's cheek in an attempt to focus his attention.

 

“Stay with me,” he pleaded.

 

“Samuel, can I get up there?” Corvo nodded to the tower. Samuel nodded as he finished tying up the boat. “Piero rebuilt the old walkway, after you went back to Dunwall tower. He said he wanted you to have access should you ever come back to the pub.” Corvo didn't question that, knowing the unusual thoughts that often plagued the inventor. He did wonder though if the Outsider had influenced his decision, he was well aware that Piero had claimed nightly visitations from the god.

 

With no other options available to him Corvo had no choice but to do as the Outsider asked.

 

Samuel unlocked the back door of the Hound Pit's pub, hushing the visitors as they entered. They made their way up the stairs until they stood in the attic. Corvo's room, as it was now known. He couldn't say he missed the room, but a lot had transpired there. He'd spent many an hour here with Emily after he had finally found her. And here was where the deal had first been struck between himself and the young man in his arms. Not that he had been given much choice.

 

“Be careful up there, Mr. Corvo.” Samuel said from the hallway. Corvo nodded his thanks and stepped out onto the walkway.

 

 

                                                                                                          *

 

 

The sky was beginning to pale as Corvo reached the tower, and he was reminded that he would need to be back as Dunwall Tower shortly. Whatever the Outsider needed of him he would see it done as quickly as possible.

 

The room was almost the same as it had been last time he had set foot in it. Nobody had returned to retrieve Emily and Callista's personal items after they had returned to the Tower. The single beds sat at odd angles next to one another, the frames broken, the blankets mouldering and tattered. The biggest different to the room was the shrine built into the corner. Corvo was surprised to see it, up until now he had presumed he knew the locations of all the shrines on the river. Foolish, he supposed, that he had assumed the tower being abandoned meant nobody would check there. Perfect place for a shrine really.

 

Corvo sat the Outsider down on the edge of Callista's bed.

 

“What are we doing here?” he asked, kneeling down in front of the young man.

 

He studied the face before him, so unlike the one he was used to. Unfamiliar blue eyes stared back, glossy with pain and exhaustion. His usually pale cheeks were dappled with freckles, yet marred with bruises. He winced as he shook off Corvo's coat. He leaned forward, pulling at the back of his blood soaked shirt as he did so.

 

“Here” the Outsider croaked. He gestured to the wound on the back of his neck.

 

Corvo moved round the bed. He tugged gently at the Outsider's collar to get a better look. He wished he didn't.

 

The mess of blood hid a massive wound. Corvo used his sleeve to dab as the Outsider's bloody skin, until the wound became clearer. There was a curve, a line passing through it, a design made by carving into flesh. Corvo realised what he was looking at. The trident that signified the sigil of the Abbey. Corvo gasped in disgust.

 

“It's what they use to keep me in this form.”

 

Corvo's blood ran cold at his words. As he inspected the wound closer he noticed the edges of the wounds were red and inflamed.

 

“When did they do this? Recently?”

 

“When they first caught me. Then, when it began to heal, they would cut it open again. They didn't stop.”

 

The Lord Protector fought back tears of anger and disgust. “I'm so sorry I didn't reach you sooner.”

 

“It is what it is, Corvo. You're here now,” Corvo was about to speak up when he was interrupted.

 

“You need to cut it off.”

 

“What? What, no. I can't do that. You've lost so much blood, you'll die.”

 

“Corvo-”

 

“No. You 're human now. There is only so much your body can take. What you're asking me to do, the pain, the blood loss. It'll kill you. Listen to me, please.”

 

“No, you listen to _me_ ,” the Outsider clambered onto his knees, grabbing hold of the front of Corvo's shirt, all scarecrow limbs and blood stains. “If I remain in this form, if I die as a human, what will happen to this world? You know what will happen. The void will swallow all the lights in the city. Is that what you want?” Corvo could see the fight leave him, being extinguished like a flame. “I need you Corvo. You're the only one who can do this. This is what I summoned you for, the only one I would trust to do this. Please.”

 

The deity’s fingers brushed over the mark on the the back of Corvo's hand. How could he refuse? He nodded. “Let's get this over with.”

 

The look the Outsider gave him said more than words could. He turned back round, crouching on the edge of the bed, the injury on his neck bleeding freely. He could be any sufferer of the rat plague, with his dirty rags and black stained feet, Corvo thought as he unsheathed the small knife at his belt. His heart felt like it was in his throat as he pressed his hand to the Outsider's shoulder in reassurance.

 

“This will hurt a lot.” _Too much._

 

“I know pain, Corvo, I've lived with little else these past months.” He almost sounded like his old haughty self again.

 

“Even so. For what it's worth I'm sorry.”

 

“Just do it.” He leaned forward, breathing hard. The Abbey's sigil glared up at Corvo.

 

Corvo pressed the blade to the skin above the carving, dragging it in a straight line until he reached the other side. The Outsider tensed beneath the kiss of steel but did little else. From there Corvo slowly sliced down and across the bottom of the wound. He readjusted his grip on the hilt of the blade when it began to slip from his sweaty and bloody grasp. He breathed out the breathe he had been holding against the blood soaked skin under his hands.

 

He wasn't aware how long he sat there, watching the blood run down the Outsider's collar, the rest dripping down his back. The bloody blade hung from his fingers.

 

“Corvo.”

 

The Lord Protector was broken from his daze. “Sorry. Okay.” He slid one hand up to press against the clammy skin, pressed his blade to the opposite side of the sigil. “Hold on.”

 

The tip of the blade parted the rest of the skin, the Outsider's body tensing once more, his breathe hissing through his clenched teeth.

 

“I'm sorry,” Corvo repeated uselessly, as the blade slid down under the Outsider's skin. Corvo began to part the scarred skin from the back of his neck, torn between taking the operation slowly, and all but tearing the skin from his body in an attempt to get it over and done with.

 

He pressed the knife down further, peeling the flap of skin further and further away from the Outsider's neck. He almost stopped when he heard the Outsider's gasp turn to a low cry. His attempt at silence was admirable, but Corvo could only guess what kind of agony he was in.

 

Corvo sawed further through the skin, desperate for it to be over. His eyes were beginning to fill with unwanted tears when the Outsider's blood began to flow black. He fought back the bile rising in his throat as the black blood spilled over his hands, obscuring his work. he was horrified by what he was being made to do.

 

The Outsider's body quaked as a choking fit shook his frame. Corvo looked over his shoulder to see what looked like black oil spilling from his mouth. He lifted his hands to his mouth, smothering the scream erupting from his torn throat. Corvo dropped the knife onto the bed.

 

“I can't do this.”

 

“What-”

 

“I'm killing you. I can't do this.”

 

The Outsider turned in his grasped, slick black hands reached for the knife. “You're not killing me.”

 

The young man's face was deathly pale, his eyes streaming with black tears. The black oil dripped from his cheeks and onto the knife in his hand. It filled his eyes, and Corvo wondered just how much human remained in him.

 

“Corvo. Finish it.” That was a voice he recognized, a voice that demanded to be obeyed.

 

He swallowed hard as the blade was pressed back into his hand, a mix of guilt and fear warring in his heart.

 

The Outsider returned to his original position, presenting Corvo with his ruined back.

 

Corvo wiped the blood and oil off the blade on his thigh and got back to work, slipping the blade back under the skin. He sliced downwards, peeling the skin back, all the while concentrating on not hearing the cries the Outsider tried to conceal.

 

Corvo finally worked the accursed patch of skin free, throwing it to the ground in disgust. He took a moment to compose himself, and finally dropped the knife. He wiped at his eyes and only succeeded in bloodying his face further.

 

Free of Corvo's grasped the Outsider dropped to his hands and knees, retching black oil as his skin became paler by the second. His skin had taken on an almost blue tone, looking like a boy drowned, when Corvo decided to intervene. He quickly moved round the Outsider, kneeling and lifting his chin to get a better look. Blood and black oil stained his cheeks and chin, his eyes as black as the silent depths of the ocean. Whatever had been keeping him human had been purged when Corvo had cut the sigil from his skin. Despite it all he smiled through his tears, his teeth stained red.

 

“Are you okay?” Corvo asked.

 

The god nodded, alternating between tears of pain and joy. “You need to leave.”

 

“Don't be ridiculous, I can't leave you like this!” Corvo shouted, both confused and slightly hurt by the order.

 

“Don't touch me,” The Outsider warned, his face dropping. He scrambled backward until his back nearly pressed against the shrine. Corvo reached for his shoulders anyway, in an attempt to prevent him from falling back and injuring his neck further. The moment his fingers met cloth the Outsider's black eyes widened and the tower melted away before him.

 

Corvo squeezed his eyes shut, but in the fraction of a second between the room vanishing and his eyes shutting he saw it. And that was enough.

 

Time and space. The shape of the past and the form of things to come. Things that had happened, only not in the world Corvo knew of. He saw civilisations he had never heard of fall, his own civilisation built upon the ruins of others. Wars being fought in another place, a place so like his own only not. So very other. There were no words in the languages of men, nor any other, to describe what he saw, or the emotions it induced in him.

Even worse were the voices. The voices of every being, living or dead, the voices of those not yet in existence, every emperor or empress, every brother or sister of the abbey. Every ring of laughter or scream of pain, every sigh of pain or pleasure. It was a tidal wave of sound that wormed it's twisted way into Corvo's mind. He ground his teeth against the intrusion.

 

And above everything, was the yawning void. The song of death and rebirth which the world would eventually be devoured by, one way or another. It was a force that would not be denied, and that knowledge was crippling.

 

“Let me go, Corvo” said the god in a voice that would not be trifled with. The voice of a storm, the voice of a being outside of existence itself.

 

The injured boy was gone, only the leviathan remained, and Corvo could only do as he was told. He unclenched his fingers from the Outsider's shirt and the scream of infinity ceased.

 

 

                                                                                                          *

 

 

Corvo opened his eyes, and found himself in his own chambers within Dunwall Tower.

 

He sat in his own chair before a stoked fireplace. The chair opposite him was angled towards him, but empty. The normality of his own room was so unexpected Corvo could almost believe he had simply suffered a particularly vivid nightmare. After his time in Coldridge he had been tormented by persistent nightmares. His blood and oil splattered hands and clothing told him otherwise however.

 

He sat back, exhausted and relieved, almost unaware of the Outsider's mark burning like a new brand on the back of his hand. It was a pain he was thankful for.

 

The song of the void permeated the air around him, like white noise, on the cusp of human hearing.

 

Corvo finally closed his eyes, the tide of time and space playing behind his eyelids.


	10. The Forgotten Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most things end with the Fugue Feast. Some things also begin.

The following month was as painful as expected. The city did not receive word of any successful whale hunts until a week after Corvo's return from the lighthouse. 

In the days that follow Dunwall continued to consume itself, to the point in which a state of emergency was officially declared. The city watch took to the streets in force, telling civilians to remain in their homes until told otherwise. Any places where the witch burnings took place were barricaded up while the city watch collected the corpses, or what remained of them, and give them what burials they could. 

Dunwall was rife with paranoia and fear, it hanged like a heavy miasma over the city. Corvo could almost see it from Dunwall tower. He also knew that the Overseers continue to lurk through the city with their infernal music boxes. He wondered how many of them know what the High Overseers were keeping on Kingsparrow Island. Just thinking of how very close they came to utter destruction is enough to send a cold chill down his spine, and a quake in his step.

Dunwall Tower was locked down while the city watch tried to stop Dunwall from tearing itself apart. Emily requested that neither Corvo or Callista leave her sight, and Corvo could not agree more. He tried to keep his eyes down, fears raising should they search out a window and out onto the horizon. The lighthouse stoods as a constant reminder to the things he witnessed. The whole ordeal was burned into him mind, as sure as the mark was burned into his hand. His nights were haunted by the horrors he has seen. Chains and blood, and the Outsider haemorrhaging oil.

He saw other things too. There had been a moment when the Outsider had bleed into his hands and for a split second they had ceased to exist in the world Corvo knew. The things he had seen would, he imagined, haunt him for the rest of his days. Structures and creatures he could give no name to.

Time has a colour. Corvo saw it every time he closed his eyes. There are no words, in any language he knew, to name it.

And so both Corvo's sleeping and waking hours were plagued by images he can't hope to understand. He was left once again in the dark, fearing for the Empress and hoping against hope that the world would put itself back together.

*

Corvo sat with Emily in a rare moment of quiet. She cringed at the smallest sound, it's surprising how the noise carries across the city, but Corvo has told her time and again that they are safe in the Tower. And they are. He'd tear himself apart before letting anything happen to her

“I don't like to say it,” Emily confided quietly, like the city may hear. “But I'm so scared.” Corvo covered her tiny hands in his own, feeling his heart break.

“It will be over soon,” he reassured. 

“How can you be so sure?”

Two weeks ago he wouldn't have been able to say with any certainty that he was sure. Now though, now was different.

“I just do. I promise.”

*

Two days later a whaling ship finally returned to Dunwall, carrying a whale. On that day Corvo returned to his quarters, exhausted but seeing a faint light at the end of the tunnel for the first time in what seemed like forever. Out of sheer paranoia had taken to checking on his mask and the heart every night before he retired. On this night he found only his mask, hidden at the bottom of the chest. The heart was nowhere to be found. Corvo knew then that the Outsider had found his way home.

The news of the successful whale hunt spread through the city like wildfire, and all the while Dunwall Tower remained isolated. As the city watch slowly began to pick up the pieces Corvo sat alone in his room and silently asked the Outsider where he was. Was he okay? He even tried to pray. If the god heard him he didn't respond.

*

Corvo ventured out into the city once the civil unrest had died down. He knew he owed Samuel an explanation, and he had yet to send word to Piero and Sokolov, but he instead found his way back to the shrine by the river.

The shrine was as empty as the last time he saw it, but he noticed signs of recent habitation. A small firepit, a pile of dirty blankets pushed up against the wall. He wondered if maybe civilians hid from persecution there, and could only hope they were still numbered among the living.

He felt slightly moronic as he leaned in against the shrine. But he thought of the heart, hopefully laid to rest finally, and he knew he wasn't there for nothing. He took a deep breath.

“Can you hear me?” he asked the emptiness. The only sound came from the river. It was soothing in it's way. His fingers rubbed absently at the Outsider's mark, which had only flared with power once, and had gone out again like a dying light.

“Are you there? I know you are, the heart is gone. Her heart. I know it was you, it must have been. Just tell me. Is she resting now?” His answer is silence once more. He has thought that would prompt a response of some kind, but the quiet is exasperating.

Corvo turned to leave, hot with anger. As he reached the iron gate the mark on the back of his hand began to tingle. The tingle became a burn, until it was burn inglike it once did. 

On reflex Corvo curlled his fingers into a fist, feeling the familiar sensation of the air being pulled from his body as though he were about to step into Blink. The feeling was both unpleasant and terribly welcome, and he wanted to wrap the Void around him once more when he heard it's faint whisper in his ear.

He hadn't realised how much he'd missed it, with the exception of the brief flicker that had heralded the Outsider's return to the void. 

The heat drained slightly from his cheeks, and the delicious lick of pain against the back of his hand could have almost been both a thank you and an apology.

Corvo felt the weight of the past few months lift slightly from his shoulders, as that tiny whisper he had always identified simply as the Void took up residence in the back of his mind once more. “Thank you,” he whispered to the darkness.

He returned to the Tower with no answers, but his soul bore fewer stains.

*

He waited, because waiting is all he could do. The weather turned cold as the city slowly began to pull itself together, and still he waited. The memories of that night on Kingsparrow Island began to fray around the edges, but that doesn't stop him from dreaming about it. Still the same things, the cold sharp edge of a blade, the bloodied skin beneath his hands, and the kaleidoscope of infinity at the end of it all.

The dreams drove him to distraction. The memories, for all their fading, took on a dream like quality for him. He spent countless evenings trying to remember the feel of torn fabric, the softness of blood stained skin. The boy, and his pale eyes and those damn freckles like constellations. Corvo, not one to shy away from the few things he had genuinely desired in his life, wondered with fear if this burgeoning obsession made him something akin to Sokolov. Surely not, for Corvo was the only one left alive who had known the boy the Overseers had made the god into. He shut down that possessive train of thought quickly.

Sokolov himself harassed Corvo when he next arrived at the Tower, desperate to know if he had anything to do with the whales return, and if so what happened? The memories were not something Corvo wished to share with anyone, foul as they were. He simply shrugged instead and said nothing when Sokolov continued prodding. He'd always been better at observing than speaking anyway.

The natural philosopher left happy enough, having secured a deal to build a new and improved Wall of Light for the Tower, in preparation for this year's Fugue feast. He stepped into the waiting boat with a knowing wink to Corvo and promised to pass on his regards to Piero. 

*

The decision for the Empress to remain in Dunwall during the Fugue Feast was a ridiculous one, one that Corvo himself and Callista had disagreed fervently with. He had been ready to scoop Emily up and leave the city by foot if that's what it took. He had conceded defeat when it was brought to his attention that that was exactly what he would have to do, since no trams or trains had yet been brought back into use since their decommission during the whale oil drought. 

Corvo would have riled further at this revelation had Emily not taken a delicate step forward and announced that in such a trying time the Empress couldn't afford to abandon her people. She argued that she'd prefer for the use of the whale oil to go to the families who truly needed it, and added that surely such a selfless act would endear her to her public? Corvo bulked at his kind, quick thinking girl, and Callista turned away to wipe away a stray tear.

So they remained in Dunwall for the Feast. The majority of the staff were sent home, only the most trustworthy and highly skilled were admitted to stay. Some of the housekeeping staff have been in employment since Jessamine's childhood, Corvo was reminded fondly. Callista remained at Emily's behest, which she was all too pleased to submit to.

Dunwall Tower was an impenetrable fortress, but even so Emily was still protected by some of the most advanced defensive technology money could buy, her own guard, trained by the Lord Protector, and should the need arise, Corvo himself.

*

The Feast was initiated on the strike of midnight on the 28th day of the month of Songs. A biting wind lashed the city as it came to life. After the horrors of the past year Corvo was not sure whether to expect less revelry or more. Either way, he wasn’t surprised when the masses take to the streets in full force.

Locking down the Tower simply reminded Corvo of the hardship the city has already faced so recently, and he found himself wondering how some of those who chose to join in the Feast could take pleasure from such torment and anger. 

It had been a long time since Emily has been afraid of the Feast, but that didn’t stop Corvo from being silently grateful that she was already asleep. 

Callista had retired not long after Emily. Corvo had been wondering the corridors when he found her outside the room adjacent to Emily's. 

“I want no part in this so called Feast”, she said as she opened the bedroom door, he eyes fierce with distaste. 

“I'd sleep all the way through it if I could”. Finding no fault in such logic Corvo bade her a good night and was on his way. As another with no love for the Fugue Feast he had to wonder how long this year's would last. The longest he'd witnessed had lasted 5 days, which was five times too long in his opinion. He only hoped it didn’t last that long this time.

*

The first day of the Fugue Feast was an odd mix of oppressiveness and boredom. Corvo rose early as he normally did, but Emily slept till late, only obliging to sit up in bed when Callista brought her a silver tray of fruit for breakfast and a cup of tea. Callista rolled her eyes as Emily deliberately slurped her tea, but her smile was kind. The rest of the morning was dedicated to a prolonged game of hide and seek which, for Corvo, quickly lost it's charm. 

At midday he passed the reins to Callista and dida circuit round the Tower, checking and double checking the fortified shutters on the windows. Guards had been posted on the inside and outside of the main doors, and Sokolov's lethal inventions littered the Tower grounds and lower levels. Yet despite this Corvo couldn’t help but feel a ripple of anticipation run down his spine, as though this is the calm before the storm. He blamed it on the fact that the city is ripping it's stitches open again, all for the sake of a stupid tradition.

Corvo had always been one to enjoy his solitude, yet the absence of the Outsider continued to wear on him. He understood in that instance that he had always taken the other's brief companionship for granted. He would give anything for those quiet talks again, even to see him again would put his mind at ease.

*

Corvo retired to his rooms late that night, exhausted and weary, leaving the watch to the most trusted of his guards. He'd have liked nothing more than to be remain awake at all times should he be needed, but the better part of him argued that he'd be no use to Emily dead on his feet. In addition to this he is plagued by the thought of the empty, dark ocean, and the city on it's edge, where friends kill friends, and sleep with each other's wives. At least in the Tower he could almost pretend it was any other night.

The fire was already burning away when he entered his room, providing him with much needed heat but little light. With a sigh of lethargy he shruged out of his coat, dumping it without ceremony at the end of his bed. 

“You are given free reign to commit any sin and this is what you do? Sleep?”

Corvo turned, awareness overriding panic in an instant, he'd know that condescending tone anywhere.

“And this is how you waste your time? Harassing me about it?” he retorted.

The Outsider laughed quietly. “I have all the time in the world.”

The Lord protector cracked a smile, pulling his gloves from his hands and dropping them beside his coat. There was no one here he needed to hide the mark from.

“Why are you here? Why now?” Corvo asked with genuine interest, taking a seat by the fire. “What took you so long?” 

The Outsider cocked his head at the question, leaning back against the wall, looking for all the world like a petulant young. He remained outside the circle of firelight.

“I had a job to do,” he stated simply. “The Void is in constant flux, Corvo. Who was there to restrain it in when your Overseers...took me?” 

For the briefest second Corvo saw the Void quite literally engulf the world. They had come so close, his heart momentarily skipped a beat. His heart. 

“The heart you gave me-it's gone,” Corvo tried, leaning forward in the chair, trying to get a better look at his companion. His voice was so quiet he could barely hear himself over the loud pulse in his ears. 

The fire light danced off the Outsider's oil slick eyes, giving nothing away. His silence conveyed patience. Corvo tried again, looking for the words that had escaped him. 

“Where is she now?”

“She's where she belongs, Corvo. You don't need to worry, she's resting now.”

Corvo exhaled a shaking breath, clasped his damp palms together. It was all he could have asked for.

“Thank you,” he choked out, at a loss for words.

“Please don't thank me,” The Outsider replied. “I owe you that at least, you did your job remarkably”.

Corvo's first response was to be taken aback. He had never considered for a moment what he did to be any kind of job. At the least it was a duty, at most a calling. He had never been one to have grand ideas about his standing in the universe, but if he had been the one intended to do it, then what else could he call it?

“I wouldn't call it a job,” Corvo said finally. The Outsider's dark eyes widened. 

“What would you call it?” he asked. 

Rather than voice his thoughts completely (though he had always wondered if the Outsider could read him as easily as he thought he could) Corvo shrugged. 

“If I didn't know better I'd have thought you were using me to keep yourself entertained.”

The Outsider crossed his arms, but his smile seemed genuine enough. 

“I know you're lying, but it's okay. As you are well aware I was in no position to enjoy your actions. How I wish I could have though, you never fail to amuse, my dear,” he admitted. It was said with such conviction, completely comfortable in himself, and Corvo was envious as he was left blushing at his words.

“Why though? Why did you choose me?” Corvo asked, horrified to find himself almost squirming under the Outsider's unblinking gaze. He stood from his chair and busied himself with folding his coat over the chest on the other side of the room.

The Outsider frowned at the question. 

“Why would I choose anyone else? The number of those who bear my mark dwindle every day it seems. And truly, I'd trust no one else with such a job.”

The god pushed off the wall, taking a step closer to the fire. “I had foreseen what would happen, but I didn't know how. I needed the best.”

Corvo returned to his seat, finally meeting his gaze.

“You know what would happen? Couldn't you have prevented it?” 

Truth be told he had considered it a number of times in the past few months. He had guessed that Piero and Sokolov's dreams of their new machine must have been the Outsider's influence, he had also assumed the same when he met with Thomas.

“Of course I knew it would happen. And I did prevent it. Or rather, you did. There are fixed points in time and space, things that will always happen. I wouldn't expect you to understand.”

That caught Corvo's attention.

“I understand. I've seen it.”

“And I told you to let me go,” The Outsider said, knowing exactly what Corvo spoke of, and apparently still displeased about it.

“I couldn't. I was worried about you,” Corvo responded. “Now it's all I see.”

“When?”

“Whenever I close my eyes. I can't even understand what I saw, but it haunts me nonetheless.”

If he was going to be plagued by the Void he felt he might as well try to understand it. Surely the Outsider would not begrudge him that t?

“I want to see it again,” he finally admitted to the Outsider. The god's shark-like grin suggested he has been waiting this whole time to hear Corvo's admission.

“I can do that, of course. In fact, it's the least I could do. A thank you, if you will.” The god took one step closer. 

“Close your eyes.”

Corvo found himself anticipating and dreading what may be asked of him, yet stood from his chair nonetheless. “Why?”

“You see the flow of time when you close your eyes, correct? Close your eyes, Corvo.” And he did as he was told.

He admittedly felt foolish standing in the middle of his own room waiting for something to happen. He thought he heard the Outsider move across the darkness of the room, and is frozen to the spot when he felt what could only be the Outsider's palms against the sides of his face. 

Corvo took a deep breathe but it was lost against the Outsider's lips, and nameless colours light up once more behind his eyelids. He deepened the kiss on instinct, desperate for more contact. His awareness of his surroundings melted away until there was only them and the voices in his head. They spoke in long dead languages and languages that had yet to be dreamed into existence. His head began to ache as the whispers becomes screams and he felt the Outsider pull away from him.

Aware once more of his surroundings Corvo found he had pulled the Outsider bodily against him during the kiss. They there, pressed against one another for what could be minutes or even hours. The Lord protector was unwilling to let the god go. He tightened his arms around that thin waist, the fabric of the Outsider's clothes oddly damp against his warm palms.

He instinctively leaned forward to kiss him once more, not for a second considering whether it was the right thing to do. The Outsider pulled back in his grasp, his cool hands slipping from Corvo's face to rest at his shoulders. 

“No more, Corvo.”

“Please,” Corvo whispered against his lips, too busy reeling from the visions of time and space to worry about the fact he was begging.

“No.” the god replied sharply. 

“The Void is nothing something humans are meant to comprehend. You caught a glimpse and that is enough.” His eyes, as black as an oil spill, pleaded for Corvo to understand.

“Would you like to go insane, Corvo?”

Corvo shrugged, too preoccupied with longing to give the question a sensible answer. 

“I feel like I already am.”

The Outsider's smirk slipped back into place but he allowed Corvo to lean forward until their foreheads pressed. The act was oddly tender.

“You're not insane. I have seen insane, more times than even I could count. Insane is mediocre. Predictable. You're neither of those things.”

Corvo nuzzled at his mouth without permission, pressing closed mouth kisses to the edge of his lips. He was simply aware of the fact that he would ask for nothing more than this. It had been the longest time since he has received any affection from another. Not since Jessamine had been taken from him. To hold another once more was like water to a dying man, and to think he could share this with one, whose very life he had held in his hands, was just a greater boon. 

There was a twinge in the back of his mind, not unlike that he received when he Blinked, when the Outsider finally opened up to him. There was no room for doubts in his mind, not with want so easily sliding into need. 

Maybe the Outsider would find him dull after this, fickle creature that he was. Maybe this was a test and he was failing, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He told himself he was possibly falling (had been falling for a while now) for the universe's biggest trickster, but again he couldn't care if he tried. Not when the Outsider finally slid his slender arms round Corvo's neck, accentuating their difference in height. A force beyond nature hid within that frail frame. But he was perfect, so very perfect with his dark eyes and his pale skin unsullied by blood. Corvo's palmed gracelessly down his damp sides, finding purchase at his waist. His shaking fingers slipped beneath fabric, stroking the cold skin beneath. He was like ice while Corvo burned up inside. 

The Outsider was the first to pull away again. His smile was odd, thoughtfulness painted those well kissed lips. He absently brushed the hair from Corvo's hot cheeks, his fingers lingering on the ends in curiosity. Corvo refused to let him go. The Outsider was so much stronger than he seemed, and if Corvo held onto him it was because the god allowed it.

He finally slid from Corvo's grasp, and without the god to hold him up Corvo all but collapsed backwards into the chair behind him. His shoulders slumped with exhaustion, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. 

“You're not insane, Corvo.” The Outsider repeated from his place on the other side of the fire.

“If you were you'd be out there,” he nodded towards the door, signifying the city beyond it, “with the rest of them.”

“I could never take part in what they do,” Corvo responded, utterly distracted by lips he had so recently tasted. “I did what needed to be done, but I've never enjoyed it. Violence or the Fugue Feast. I just want them both to end.”

“Truly?” The Outsider cocked his head again, as though he were listening for something. 

The loud speakers littered throughout the city crackled to life as the Hymn of Atonement began to play. The Hymn spread it's calming message as crowds abandoned the streets and began to return home, violence and adultery forgotten. Masks would be locked away until they were next needed. 

The Hymn weaved its way through Dunwall Tower as well, alerting all who were awake that the next year was just beginning.

In Corvo's room the Outsider stepped round the fireplace, stopping in the space between Corvo's legs.

“A new year begins,” He gestured to his surroundings. “And you can forget any of this ever happened.”

Corvo reached for the god's pale hands, their fingers kissed but the Outsider didn't pull away.

The Lord protector frowned.

“Why would I want to do that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here we are. Thank you to everyone who commented, left kudos, did beautiful art or just read this old thing. This is for you.


End file.
